Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Jade
“Where’s Malachi?” For the fourth day in a row, I find Milo in the living room when I get downstairs, while Malachi is nowhere to be found.
“He had to go to work early,” Milo shrugs, returning his attention to the videogame he’s been playing.
“Again?” I don’t say it at loud but I’m beginning to think that he’s avoiding me on purpose.
Being around Malachi after that night has become excruciatingly painful. So, I do what I’m best at. I avoid him and pretend everything is fine, until I can’t pretend anymore.
I’m willing to bet that he’s avoiding me, too. After giving me that whole speech about protecting me and not letting anyone near me, I almost want to call him out on it.
“Yeah,” Milo responds. “You know how this job is, work never sleeps.”
“And neither does he, apparently.” I leave Milo to his game and head to the kitchen. Just like the previous mornings, I find a prepared cup of coffee waiting for me on the counter.
And it’s how I drink it. He’s made sure to prepare my favorite coffee since the first time I told him I don’t drink any other kind.
While on the outside he seems like the coldest son of a bitch I’ve encountered, I wonder if deep down he’s a delicate soul.
The way he pays attention to things makes me believe he might be.
“Do you know what time he’s coming back today?” I return to the living room with a bowl of cereal and my cup of coffee and join Milo on the sofa.
“He said earlier because you two have some event to attend,” Milo responds, not taking his eyes off the game.
I’m used to our dynamics by now. Unlike the men that work for Papà, Milo seems kind and real. At least as kind as a mafia dude can be. “Right, so he didn’t forget about that.”
“Boss takes his obligations seriously.”
I jump to my feet, leaving my food behind but picking my coffee mug up. “I’ll be in my room!”
“Are you going to eat this?” He shouts after me as I climb the stairs.
“Nope!” I respond. “It’s all yours.”
Once I close the door behind me, I dive into the pile of still unpacked clothes that my mother sent over from home. If Milo is telling the truth and Malachi has been acting that way about tonight, I’m going to make sure that he gets even more excited when he sees me.
“God! Who needs so many clothes?!” I cry in despair, going through the bags and for the first time in my life, I regret having bought every cute piece of clothing that I ever laid eyes on.
I don’t even realize how much time has passed until there is a knock on the door. “Yes?”
“Milo told me you’ve been in there since this morning,” Malachi opens the door and steps inside.
“Shit!” I glance at my phone, realizing it’s already six o’clock. I didn’t even go downstairs to have lunch. “I was just getting ready for tonight.”
“Wow,” Malachi takes in the sight in front of him with terror on his face. “How can you live in a room like this?”
“I couldn’t find the right dress for tonight,” I shrug, turning to face him.
Only then does Malachi’s attention shift from the chaos in the room to my dress. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary on my legs.
“What do you think?” I ask with a smile on my face that I can’t help.
“You’re not wearing that,” Malachi runs his hand through his perfectly combed hair, his jaw tightening.
“What? Why?” The audacity to tell me I can’t wear an outfit I spent the entire day working on makes my blood boil.
“Because,” he points to the low neckline and the length of the dress without finishing the sentence.
“I’ll remind you that our contract doesn’t allow you to choose my clothes for me,” I snap at him. “Nor does it allow you to tell me what I cannot wear.”
“I’m not saying you can’t wear it.” He takes a step closer and the annoyance slowly starts turning into the familiar throb between my legs. “You can wear it at home as much as you like. But not while Nolan is watching.”
“So this is about Nolan?” I raise an eyebrow. “Suddenly I can’t even wear a dress I like because he’ll be there?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s not just because he’ll be there. Don’t forget that you’re my future wife, and no one will look at my future wife and think she is being too sexy.”
“Well that’s not fair!”
“You can complain about it later,” Malachi heads over to the pile of dresses on my bed, starting to browse through them. “But now, you need to change because we’ll be late.”
“I don’t have anything else that I like,” I point out. “As Milo told you, it took me all day to pick out my outfit.”
“This one.” He pulls a beautiful pink dress that covers all the right body parts while looking incredibly elegant. “Put this on.”
“I still think it’s unfair,” I take the dress from him. He doesn’t move.
“Are you going to stand there and watch me change?” I raise an eyebrow, tempted to throw the pink dress at him.
“We’re going to be husband and wife,” He smirks. “There’s nothing wrong with you changing in front of me.”
“Fine.” If he can bluff, so can I.
I start unzipping the dress, sliding it off my shoulders slowly.
“I’ll leave,” he says before I get to reveal too much skip, heading towards the door, but then he stops to add. “Just so you know, that black dress looks painfully good on you and one day you’ll be asking me to be the one to take it off of you.”
I blink, taken by surprise, but I should know better by now. Malachi can be incredibly unpredictable and while a part of me enjoys the thrill, another more sane part of me, can’t help but get embarrassed every time.
Why do I have to fucking blush every time?!
“I’m patient, I’ll wait for that day.”
Once Malachi closes the door behind him, I drop onto the bed, one hand over my chest. We’ve only lived together for a few days and I’m already struggling to keep myself together.
At this rate, in no time I’ll make his prediction come true and start begging him for an orgasm, and I hate that.
I hate that he’s right, and I hate that my body wants him more than it has ever desired anyone else.
I hate how easy it is for him to make me blush and how fast my heart starts beating when he gets close. And I hate that I notice everything about him. I hate that I can still taste his lips on mine even though the kiss we shared was so brief I didn’t even have time to react.
But more than anything, I hate that my pride won’t let me just walk up to him and tell him all of this, tell him how badly I want him to do all those things he wants to do to me.
If I could tell him, and we actually had sex, maybe everything would become easier.
Maybe.