Chapter 17 #2
Bash frowned, his gut churning at her casual reference to their eventual divorce.
Even more, he disliked that she felt the need to articulate no cheating.
“Arabella,” he said, suddenly feeling more serious than he ever had in his life, “I need to be crystal clear on something. I’ve never cheated on anyone.
And I never will. I may have an ‘active social life,’ shall we say, but I always respect the women I’m with. It won’t be any different with you.”
“But you’re surrounded by temptation, Sebastian. I’ve seen your Instagram. Let’s be real about this.”
“And an addict may be surrounded by temptation, too. But when they make the intentional decision, every hour of every day, to be true to their health and well-being, they’re able to turn away from any temptation. Because what’s on the other side is far, far better.”
Something shifted behind Arabella’s eyes when he mentioned addiction. He’d seen her with a glass of wine at Brinder’s, so he didn’t think she was an alcoholic. What was that look? Another question to file away with the E necklace for later.
“I expect the same from you, Arabella. This is my reputation, too. And I know what it feels like to be cheated on publicly.” Fucking Poet Walsh. “Further, this role depends on my wife and me demonstrating our faithfulness and stability.”
“Are you prepared to go at least a year without a sexual partner?” she asked in a cooly detached manner. “That seems as if it could be a challenge.”
“Are you?” he rejoined, ticked—and more than a little hurt—that she thought so little of him and his potential for fidelity.
She huffed, “I haven’t slept with anyone in—” she halted “—in quite some time. It definitely won’t be a problem for me.”
Bash frowned again, still nursing the sting of her assumption. “And as for me, my queen, contrary to what you see spun in the tabloids, I’m capable of keeping it in my pants. Give me a little credit for some self-control and self-awareness, Arabella.”
Besides, if I have my way, I’ll have you naked under me, over me, and in a myriad of other positions before the month is out.
Regret flashed across her face. “Of course, Sebastian. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impugn your character when I don’t even really know you. Please accept my apologies.”
He merely nodded, casually reaching beneath the table under the guise of adjusting his napkin to surreptitiously push down on his randy cock—which naturally had perked up at his internal planning.
A small crease appeared between Arabella’s brows as she wrote “No cheating” in the worst scrawl he’d ever seen.
Despite the churning in his gut after she felt the need to articulate that rule—her lack of trust in his character was more upsetting than he’d expected—he couldn’t help but be amused at her handwriting.
“You write like a doctor,” he teased, needing to lighten the moment for his own sake, if not hers.
“I am a doctor,” she replied primly, then smiled at him. “Actually, my writing has always been trash. Et—um…a friend of mine used to tease me that it looked like I wrote with my non-dominant foot.”
“That’s savage.” He pretended to open a notebook and write on it. “Tell me her name and I’ll write her a strongly worded email.”
Arabella’s smile slid from her face, her eyes so sad his heart missed a beat. “You can’t,” she responded softly. “She’s gone.”
“Arabella,” he whispered, placing his hand over her free one resting on the table and rubbing her satiny skin. “Angel, I am so sorry.”
She watched his hand for a moment, and he could see her struggling to pull herself together.
“Want to talk about it?” he offered.
Arabella pulled her hand away and her head shot up, her regular mask shifting into place. “No. I don’t.”
Bash paused and then nodded, her walls already lowered more than he’d expected and not wanting to upset her further. “Ok then, my queen.” He pointed to her notebook. “Next rule, please.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. Back to business.
“As we mentioned yesterday, it would make sense for us to ‘date’ for at least a couple months before we get married. If we move too quickly, people might not believe us. I suggest we start this week with a series of dates.”
“No can do, Arabella.”
Her eyes flew up from her notes to catch his. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I leave town tomorrow. It’s why I was in such a pants-on-fire hurry to meet with you. I’m recording a voiceover for an animated film. I’ll be in LA for a little more than a week. But then I’ll be back and at your service, my queen.”
“Oh, tomorrow? Ok, right. Ok.” Arabella turned back to her book, scribbling some illegible notes. “Next thing—living arrangements.”
“I’m happy to stay at your place, Arabella. Or, if you want, I can find us something larger.”
Her eyes widened, nose crinkling adorably. “That seems wasteful, Sebastian. My home will do us just fine. While you’re away, I’ll get furniture for my guest room and—”
“Nope. Nada. Nyet. Nein.” Bash made an X with his arms. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I’m sleeping in your bed.”
“I beg your pardon?”