Chapter 8 - Georgie
“I can’t believe you embarrassed me like that. Trent isn’t even my type,” I huff, narrowing my eyes at Kristopher.
“You’re his type.”
I shake my head. I’ve never viewed Trent in that way. And sure, he asked me out three years ago, but I said no, and that was that. He was one of those guys who fell short in comparison to Kristopher. My stomach churns, thinking about how he just introduced himself as my husband.
“You’re overreacting so embarrassingly right now. You don’t have to protect me from my friends,” I snap.
Kristopher slips his hand around my waist and tugs me tight against his body.
“Is this how friends hug?” he asks. He gently kisses my cheeks, and my entire soul ignites.
“Is this how friends say hello?” he whispers.
His voice is low as it brushes over me, silky and deep, making me tremble in his arms. I close my eyes, savoring the intimacy.
My heart is beating a million miles an hour when I realize that his hand placement is exactly the same as Trent's, but when Trent did it, I felt nothing.
When Kris did the same thing, it stole my sanity for a moment. It set heat flooding my body, it made my heart race, and my thoughts turn to very erotic things.
I step back, trying to hide how pink my cheeks have grown. Okay, just because I felt nothing doesn’t mean Trent intended nothing by it.
So, begrudgingly, I have to admit that Kristopher has a point.
“Okay, fine, whatever,” I sigh.
But I can’t help being impressed and confused by how much attention Kristopher paid to that interaction. He’s been watching me like a hawk all day. Every time I glance at him, his eyes are locked onto me.
I just didn’t think he was taking in such fine detail.
I bite my lower lip and scrunch my nose. I shouldn’t read into this. “I have to get to class,” I mutter, a quiet, unsettled feeling shifting inside me.
Kristopher’s behavior just now was possessive, jealous even, when he chased Trent away, making it very clear that I was his wife. He didn’t have to tell the guy that. But he made a point of it. He made a show of claiming me in front of Trent.
Something I’ve wanted him to do since the day he kissed me all those years ago.
But now, he’s not doing it for the right reasons.
This is ego.
This is just him staking a claim because I happen to be married to him, and he feels he has a right to. The marriage wasn’t anything other than convenience.
I huff loudly, avoiding letting him see me roll my eyes.
I’m pissed off with myself. Why in the world does Kris still have the power to turn me on like that when he’s the one who rejected me?
That kiss…it was pure bliss for me…but he put a stop to it and pushed me away.
It’s a rejection that still stings as sharply as the day it first happened.
And here I am, years later, letting him tease me all over again, despite knowing better.
I should be wiser than that.
I’m walking towards the building with Kristopher close at my side when the memory of that rejection turns to anger over what just happened.
I spin on my heel and glare at him.
“I don’t care if Trent was flirting with me.
Guys are allowed to flirt with me. Don’t you dare go around telling everyone we’re married.
I have a reputation to uphold among the other students here.
They look up to me, and if they think I went running off and did some weekend wedding in Vegas with a guy I hardly know, because that’s basically what this was, they won’t view me the same way.
And acting possessive? Get over yourself.
I don’t belong to you. Are we clear?” I blurt out my words in anger.
Kristopher holds up his hands, but he doesn’t look in the least bit worried about my outburst. “Crystal clear, little one,” he muses.
“Don’t call me little one. It’s too endearing,” I snap.
He chuckles, and I have to spin away from him to stop my body from reacting to his smile again.
Damn him for being so damn freaking hot.
I march towards my class with Kristopher in tow.
“And for the record,” he says. “A weekend wedding in Vegas would have been more fun. We could have drunk too much champagne and ended up in some atrocious red velvet room with our legs tangled and….”
“Stop it,” I snap, horrified all over again as my thoughts race in every inappropriate direction possible. “I don’t want to know about your Vegas experiences.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he snaps back at me.
I can’t believe I agreed to have him follow me around campus.
Because he makes you feel safe. That’s why.
And because he’s gorgeous.
And because you’ve thought about him every single day for the past few years.
This is not helping.
In my next class, Kris sits a few rows behind me, giving me more space than before.
But I can sense his eyes on me the entire time. Being watched so avidly is a turn-on, and I’m far too aware of him to commit my full attention to the lectures.
Maybe the online courses were a better option, after all.
***
Over the next week, things don’t get any better.
He’s everywhere I look. At home, he’s there. In class, he’s there. When I stop to grab a coffee at the Starbucks on campus, he’s there. And the worst part of all of it? I want him there. I love having him there.
But where and how does this end? Because I can’t imagine he’s enjoying tailing me around. He probably can’t wait for this to be over so he can get me out of his home.
Then again, this is all his plan. Not mine. I didn’t make him follow me around.
Ugh. I wish I could stop thinking about him for just one minute.
Kristopher parks the car outside the front door of his mansion and climbs out.
I push the door open before he can do that annoying gentlemanly thing that makes my heart flutter and open the door for me.
I storm towards the front door, making a point of lugging my own book bag.
Kris catches up with me in a few strides and forcefully takes it away from me. “It’s too heavy for you, Georgie. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?”
I huff. “None of the other girls on campus, taking the exact same classes as me, have some hunky guy following them around carrying their book bags for them.”
His eyes flood with mischief. “Hunky?”
I roll my eyes to hide my embarrassment. “You totally missed the point,” I sigh.
He pushes the front door open for me. “None of those other girls are married to me,” he says calmly, waiting for me to walk past him, but leaving just enough room so that I’m forced to brush against his perfect body.
My hormones are in overdrive. My self-control is slipping, and I’m on the verge of embarrassing myself and having him reject me all over again, and I do not want to give him that satisfaction.
I can’t take this anymore.
I walk straight up to my room.
I’m not coming out again tonight. I need a break. I need time alone. I need to clear my thoughts and pull myself together, and I can’t do that when he’s around me all the time.
I walk into my bedroom, looking a lot more homey than when I first got here, and slam the door.
Except for the moment the door shuts, I have this overwhelming feeling that I’m being an absolute coward. I’m always telling people to face their fears. To be strong, to learn to grow with the things that bother them instead of hiding from them.
A low, annoyed groan slips from my mouth as I lean my back against the bedroom door.
There has to be a better solution to this problem. And part of studying psychology involves being a problem solver.
Suddenly, it dawns on me. It’s the most obvious solution. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Or maybe I did, but I was reluctant to ask. Because I like having him around. But I like it too much, and it’s not healthy for me.
With the idea set in my mind, I pull my bedroom door open. Kristopher will be in his home office now. He always goes there when we get home so that he can catch up on a few things. I imagine he’ll appreciate my idea. Surely, he’s too busy to be my babysitter and run an entire city.
I want him to hire me a bodyguard. It’ll be a win-win situation for both of us.
I’m just outside his office when I realize he’s on the phone.
Now is obviously not a good time. I pause outside the door, out of sight. I should come back later or discuss this at dinner.
I turn away, but then I hear him snarl something in anger.
“There is no reason for you to be asking about her. We will sign the documents for the land I traded, and that is the only thing we need to be discussing,” he growls.
My heart skips a beat as I step closer to the door and tilt my head to the side to listen.
“No, Ali, but I'm curious about what connection you have to my father.”
There’s a tense pause. Ali. Ali Koskos. He’s talking to the man who ‘owned me.’ The man who had the power to sell me.
My chest tightens as anxiety knots inside my stomach, churning and twisting.
“It just occurred to me that my father might benefit from me losing that land. Three warehouses, an airstrip, a massive underground bunker…” he says, more calmly than before. I can hear it in his voice, how he’s fighting for control over his anger.
“Yes. My lawyers will contact you.”
The call ends.
I panic for a second, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. With my mind made up in a moment, I bolt down the passage, then stop.
The bodyguard idea can wait, but that doesn’t mean I have to run away.
Right now, my thoughts are swimming from the fact that he traded away a very large portion of land and valuable property to save me from that man. Why would he do that? Why would he give away so much for me?
And what risk does that pose for him? I remember what Jess said about their father wanting to have power over Kristopher, even though he’s the one who keeps the businesses running.
Surely this puts him in a very dangerous position with his father?
I spin on my heel and march back towards his office.