Chapter 11
CHANTEL
The smell of fresh coffee stirs me from my sleep, and I roll over with a groan.
I didn’t get nearly enough rest last night, but I have no regrets.
Bran put me through it, ordering me around and making me come well into the early morning hours. It was exactly what I needed, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I passed out without the suffocating weight of fear on my chest.
Though I’m not sure I can attribute that to the marathon session with Bran, or the man currently down the hall.
I grab my phone to check the time and notice I have a text from Cristian. Or at least, that’s who I assume it is, since it’s a number I don’t recognize.
Come out here when you wake up. I need to go over a few things with you.
I sigh at his demand, tempted to ignore it entirely, but I suspect that will only backfire on me. He didn’t show me how the alarm system works yesterday, and it’s a safe bet he’ll be leaving for work soon.
I sit up with a grimace, surprised by how sore I am. I think the last time I had that many orgasms was when Bran was giving them to me himself.
Sex with Marco had been average at best, but I’d gotten used to it.
He stopped trying to get me off, insisting I was better at doing it myself.
So if I wanted to come, it was up to me.
It was always something I had to work at with him, and lately, he’d noticed I really wasn’t that into it.
That pissed him off, and when he left for New York, I should have just ended things then.
As I head into the bathroom and slip on my robe, I recognize how empty our time together really was. In retrospect, I can see that he was only ever a distraction, and not even a good one.
Now I just want him to leave me alone so I can forget that entire chapter of my life.
I do a quick clean-up, brushing my teeth and washing my face before I throw my hair up in a messy bun. I consider putting on some mascara, but then I start questioning my motives.
So with more confidence than I feel, I leave my room bare-faced and walk down the hall.
I find Cristian in the kitchen, tapping out a text on his phone.
He’s freshly showered, and his hair is still damp, but there’s an undone look to him I’m not used to seeing.
He’s usually polished to perfection, but this morning, his waistcoat is unbuttoned, and his tie is hanging loose around his neck. Whatever he’s doing on his phone seems to have interrupted him, and despite my resolve not to be affected, I can’t stop myself from looking.
No mortal man should be this hot. Particularly not one who seems to get under my skin so much.
When he glances up and our gazes meet, a familiar tension pulses between us. The urge to look away rises inside me, but it feels like if I do that, he’ll win.
Darkness melts through his eyes as they slide over me in lazy appraisal. He misses nothing. Not the increase in my pulse, or the way my breathing shallows, or the tightening of my nipples as his attention lingers there.
It isn’t often Cristian deigns to look at me this long, but when he does, it short-circuits my entire nervous system.
As a performer, I’m used to the male gaze.
Men tend to like what they see on the surface, and they don’t care about the rest. But Cristian doesn’t just look at me.
He has a unique talent for seeing what’s beyond the exterior and laying me bare in a way nobody else ever has.
It’s exactly why his attention is so dangerous, and why I need to escape it.
“You said you needed to go over something?” I break the silence.
His lip twitches as he tosses me an infuriatingly smug look, clearly pleased that he won that round.
“Here are your new keys.”
He pulls them from his pocket and extends his hand, forcing me to go to him. It feels like another test, and it irks me even more.
But he’s not the only one who can play this game.
I haven’t forgotten the way he would tense if I ever got too close, or how the smallest accidental touch would annoy him. So when I take the keys, I make a point to brush my fingers against his, drawing out that interaction.
Something flickers behind his eyes, but otherwise he looks unfazed, which reads like a challenge to me.
Taking things up a notch, I press my body closer and slide my fingers over the length of his tie. Crossing one end over the other, I loop it beneath his neck and slowly tighten the knot.
“We can’t have any rumors about the state of our domestic bliss.” I smile up at him. “What would people think if I sent my unwanted husband off in such disarray?”
He watches me in silence, his gaze tracking my fingers while I work. I take my time perfecting his tie, then fasten the buttons on his waistcoat with more care than necessary. It’s supposed to be a game, but something about this little skit feels more significant than it should.
I’ve never done this for another man. The only reason I even know how to knot a tie is because I had to learn for some of the costumes at work.
Cristian’s face remains impassive, but the unnatural stillness in his body tells me he’s affected.
Satisfied with the accomplishment, I smooth out his waistcoat and relish the small victory. But for reasons I can’t really explain, I don’t stop there.
My hands slide down the flat planes of his abs, pinky barely grazing his belt before he grabs my wrists and imprisons them.
“What’s the matter?” I ask innocently, pleased to see irritation lurking in the depths of his eyes. “Rough night on the sofa? Maybe you should consider sleeping in your own bed.”
“Touch me like that again, and I’ll consider it an invitation to yours.”
“Is there anything else?” I mutter, wondering why he’s still holding my wrists hostage in his ridiculously oversized hands.
He releases me and nods at the keypad by the door. “We need to go over your security system.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “Tell me what I need to know.”
He directs me to the keypad and has me enter the code. As I do, he stands right behind me, the heat of his body penetrating my back.
I try to pay attention as he goes on to explain motion tracking, battery backup, and something about locks auto-engaging after a certain period of time. But every word he utters brushes the top of my hair, sending tiny shivers down my spine.
“Is there a problem?” he murmurs. “I thought you liked playing this game. You were having so much fun with it a minute ago.”
I turn around to glare at him, and quiet satisfaction sparks in his eyes.
He doesn’t retreat, so I do, watching as he explains the window sensors and silent alarm buttons.
Despite my current frustrations, I have to admit, I feel safer having these things in place. It takes everything in me, but I swallow my pride and get it over with.
“Thank you for doing all of this. You didn’t need to, but—”
“You can stop at thank you,” he says. “And you don’t owe me anything in return.”
I hate that he knows that’s something that bothers me, but I try to let it go.
He checks the time on his watch and lifts his gaze to mine. “Give me your phone.”
I’m tempted to tell him there’s a word missing from his vocabulary, but considering everything he’s done for me, I hand my phone over with a sigh. I assume he’s going to add an app for the alarm, but instead he drops it onto the floor.
“What are you—”
The question dies in my throat as he crushes it beneath his shoe, splintering the screen with a crack. Then without missing a beat, he retrieves a brand new phone from his pocket and hands it to me.
“What the hell?” I sputter. “All my contacts were in there. My schedule, my work stuff—”
“It’s already been transferred.” He gives me a dry stare, as if he didn’t just admit to invading my privacy.
“How?”
“Romeo accessed your cloud backup.”
“Have you ever heard of boundaries?” I snap. “That wasn’t for you to decide.”
“Remember what I told you yesterday?” He raises a brow at me. “You wanted to be a brat. Welcome to the consequences of your actions.”
“A brat?” I echo him in disbelief. “Did you really just call me that?”
“Are you telling me you aren’t?”
My mouth hinges shut. It doesn’t feel like we’re talking about a phone anymore, and participating in this conversation can’t lead anywhere good.
“Look, you’ve made your point,” I tell him. “So you can go back to your life now and lord over your empire. I’m sure you have plenty of people there to micromanage.”
“They aren’t nearly as challenging.”
“Why, because they don’t talk back?”
“Yes.” Amusement threads through his voice. “As it turns out, I like a little resistance now and then.”
My heart does a weird little flip as I study him, trying to figure out if this is another game. It has to be, because there’s no way Cristian Vitale is flirting with me.
Before I can conclude anything either way, he leaves me standing there and gathers up his things for work.
“There’s food in your fridge,” he informs me. “And I have a driver on standby to take you anywhere you need to go. You’ll find his contact in your phone.”
I respond with a sigh, and he shoots me a look.
“You will let him drive you. If you don’t, I’ll come handle it personally, and I promise you’ll like that ride even less.”
“So many euphemisms there I don’t even know where to start,” I answer dryly. “Will you strap me to the back seat until I learn to behave?”
“I’m far more creative than that,” he deadpans. “Keep testing me if you want to find out.”
I offer him a bored expression as if I’m not trying to imagine what he’d do.
“Be good while I’m gone, Mrs. Vitale.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ll see you tonight.”