Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
Alejandro
Iarrive home in time for dinner and make my way to the dining room.
Hopefully I won’t regret my decision to eat dinner with my new wife or have even more regret for allowing her to choose the meal.
What the hell came over me earlier when I called Magda and proclaimed I’d be home for dinner?
Maybe it’s the same reason that I can’t seem to stop myself from coming home a few nights every week and sleeping in our bed—just so I can be a little closer to Alana.
But watching her sleep is one thing. Eating dinner together, entirely another.
I imagine there’ll be some kind of pretentious dish sitting on my plate when I get into the room.
Or worse, something vegan. I have no idea if my wife only eats tofu and fake cheese, or whether she survives on wine and antidepressants, like her mother is purported to—although Alana’s general appearance would rule out the latter.
But her being a vegan is possible. It seems like a newly fashionable lifestyle choice.
Not that I have anything against vegans, but I’m a carnivore, and a meal isn’t a meal, in my opinion, unless it contains meat.
Alana’s already seated at the dining room table.
She looks different today. Her cheeks are glowing, and there’s a look on her face I haven’t seen before.
It looks a lot like contentment, and it has nothing to do with me, because she hasn’t noticed me yet.
She’s just sitting there, smiling to herself.
Her lunch must have gone well. Maybe she indulged in too many afternoon cocktails.
It sure as fuck better not be about anything else.
The fact that she chose Hugo to be her bodyguard out of the five men I sent her didn’t escape my attention.
I wonder now if I made a mistake picking him as one of my choices, but he is undeniably one of my best soldiers, and he would take a bullet for her or me without question.
I trust him with my most prized possession.
Her.
“Buenas noches, princesa,” I say, taking a seat.
She finally looks up at me, smile still firmly in place. “Good evening,”
“Did you have a good day?”
“Yes.” She nods eagerly. “Yes, I did.”
Before I can ask about it further, Magda enters the room carrying dinner. She places my plate in front of me, and I’m sure I must have walked into the wrong house. A glance at Alana’s plate reveals she has the same.
The scent of bacon and cheese and beef fills my nose and my stomach growls.
“Can I get you anything else?” Magda asks.
I keep my eyes fixed on my wife. “I have everything I need right here.”
Alana licks her lips, and I want to lick them too. And then I would lick a path from there to every other part of her I’d like to taste. “No thank you, Magda. This looks delicious.”
Magda nods and leaves us alone.
“Coca-Cola?” Alana holds up the glass decanter beside her that’s filled with dark brown liquid.
I suppress a smile. “You decanted the soda?”
She shrugs. “Seemed classier somehow.”
I hold out my glass for her to fill, and she obliges. “So this is your favorite meal? Cheeseburger and fries?”
“Bacon cheeseburger and fries.” She lets out a moan that short-circuits my brain. “I’m sorry if you were hoping for something a little fancier. But Magda insisted that I choose my favorite, and this is it.”
Is it, though? Alana places her napkin on her lap and picks up the giant greasy burger with both hands. I watch her take a huge bite, transfixed.
A smile tugs at my lips as an expression of pure satisfaction spreads over her pretty face while she chews that first mouthful, and those little fucking noises she’s making go straight to my cock. This really is her favorite food.
Suddenly, she stops chewing and swallows hard. Fuck, I’m staring. But I can’t help it. Her beauty is undeniable, but I have never seen her look sexier than she does right now. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and mumbles, “Sorry.”
“What for?” I pick up my own burger. “There’s no other way to eat.” I wink at her and take a bite. She rewards me with a wide smile before she continues eating.
After we’ve eaten our burgers and finished our decanted soda, Magda brings me a glass of Scotch and clears the dishes.
I sip my drink, my eyes not leaving Alana.
This is why I don’t spend too much time around her—I’m constantly reminded of how much she fascinates me.
I could stare at her all evening and not get bored.
She stares into space, and I wonder what’s on her mind, but I won’t ask.
I have no desire for her to learn how much she has captivated me.
After a few moments of silence, she turns to me. “Why did you ask Magda to cook my favorite meal?”
I consider my answer carefully. “You are my wife. Maybe I thought it was time to learn something about you.”
“Okay” is all she says, eyeing me suspiciously.
Two can play at that game. “How was Hugo today?”
That fucking smile lights up her face again, and it has jealousy burning through my veins. “He was great. Thank you for allowing me to choose my own bodyguard. I appreciate it.”
“Why did you choose him?” I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while I sip my Scotch. When I sent him to her, I almost had myself convinced that I wouldn’t give a fuck who she chose. But I do. I really fucking do.
She chews her lip and answers thoughtfully. “He was the best candidate.”
“The fact that he was the youngest and best looking didn’t factor into your decision at all then?” I growl.
She flashes me a wicked grin. “You think Hugo is good looking?”
I am not in the mood to play. Not about this. She needs to remember that even if our marriage isn’t real, she is still fucking mine. “Answer the question, Alana.”
She rolls her eyes, and I’m a heartbeat away from bending her over the dining table and spanking her ass right here. But there’s only one way that would end, and I don’t want to fuck her. Not yet.
Except I do. I desperately want to fuck her, and that’s the problem. I can’t go there with her yet. I can’t afford to let her in.
So I take a calming breath and let the eye roll go. For now.
“I chose him because he was the only one who actually spoke to me,” she says.
“You’re telling me the others were mute?”
Another eye roll. My resistance is being stretched to its breaking point.
“No. But they may as well have been. They all gave me one-word answers and had absolutely no personality. Hugo answered my questions and we actually talked. He could have been eighty years old and looked like Freddy Krueger, and I still would have given him the job. Are you satisfied?”
Not even a little. She’s getting far too feisty for her own good. “He’s not there to talk to you.”
“Why not?” she asks, her chin tilted in defiance.
“Because he’s there to protect you. Talking to you is distracting. Jesus, Alana, you’re a fucking distraction.” I immediately wish I could take back those last few words.
Her anger gives way to confusion. “You think I’m a distraction?”
I close my eyes and take a breath. “I simply meant that if you talk to him while he’s working, he cannot focus on his job.”
She leans forward, her eyes narrowed. “But I barely ever talk to you.”
“We’re not talking about me.”
“But we are. You just said I was a distraction. So how do I distract you, Alejandro?” My name rolls off her tongue like it belongs there.
Does she have any fucking idea how much restraint it takes for me to not climb over this table and fuck her right here?
It’s going to happen. We both know that, so why don’t I get it over with?
Fuck her out of my system. I have no goddamn idea what stops me. “You don’t.”
“But you said—”
“Forget what I said.” I slam my hands down on the table and she flinches.
I feel like a piece of shit for scaring her, but she’s getting way too close.
“But remember this, Wife. I am your husband. When you leave this house, you are a representation of me. If I ever find out he has touched you, or that you have allowed him to, or you have even smiled at him the wrong way, I will peel his skin from his body, and I will make you watch while I do it. Do you understand me?”
Her skin pales. “Yes,” she says quietly. We sit in silence for a few seconds, tension thick in the air, before she speaks again. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to finish reading my book.”
Closing my eyes, I nod and hear her chair being pushed back. When I reopen them, she’s gone.
Later that night, I crawl into bed beside her, waiting until I’m sure she’ll be asleep. She’s lying on her side, facing the window and away from me. As she seems to have an aversion to covers and sleeps in the tiniest pair of panties and a tank top, I have an incredible view of her sexy round ass.
I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, but my eyes are drawn to her repeatedly. My cock is rock hard. I wrap my hand around it and squeeze tightly, hoping for some relief, but it offers me none.
All I can think about is how easy it would be for me to roll onto my side, pull those tiny panties of hers out of my way, and slide myself inside her. If I fuck her just one time, maybe I can get her out of my head.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force the images from my brain. My cock is weeping for her. I contemplate getting myself off, but the thought of her waking up and catching me jerking off over her isn’t one I relish.
So, I lie beside her with a throbbing cock and a throbbing head and wonder why I didn’t just go to the hotel, where I wouldn’t have been subjected to such torture.
I must drift off at some point because I wake up at six in the morning.
Glancing at Alana’s sleeping form, I have a vague memory of her hand on my chest in the night, her warm skin resting lightly against my own.
And then I have an even more pleasant memory of her hand squeezing my hard cock—I must have dreamed that.
Hopeful that a long run will take my mind off her and her sinful curves, I pull on my shorts and running shoes.
I’m stopped by a rush of guilt when I steal another look at her on my way out the door.
I was harsh with her last night, and she didn’t deserve it.
She’s given me no reason to suspect she’s a cheater, and Hugo isn’t stupid enough to try anything with her.
There’s no rational explanation for why she stokes such possessive need in me.
This thing we have isn’t real; why am I acting like I want that to change?
Why do I long to see the expression of contentment she wore last night and know that I’m responsible for it?
It makes no sense.
Alana Montoya is working her way into my affections, and I don’t know how to stop her. And I’m not sure I want to.