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“It comes out to fifty-fifty anyway since we’re married. There’s no way around it, baby.”
“We keep our financials separate. I get my paycheck. There’s no reason anything needs to be fifty-fifty.”
“Why are you resisting this?”
She stilled at the abrupt question.
“We’re married. My money is your money. I want you to have it.”
“And I want my own money, Axel. You already let me live there rent-free?—”
“Let you live there…” I released a chuckle because that was ridiculous. “Baby, it’s your home.”
“You know what I mean. And after what happened in your previous marriage, I would assume you’d prefer to keep everything separate.”
“I don’t compare you to her. I’m not going into my second marriage thinking about the bullshit from my first. It’s different with you, and I have no doubt that you want me for me and not my wallet.”
Her eyes immediately dropped to stare into the contents of her mug, like my words provoked her in some way. “We both know I only married you to reclaim the business.”
“That was the excuse that got you in the door. But that’s not the reason you’re sitting across from me now. It’s not the reason you slept with me last night. Everything is different now.”
Her eyes remained down.
“You continue to drive that piece-of-shit car when I’ve offered any of mine?—”
“There’s nothing wrong with my car.”
“You’re the wife of a billionaire—start acting like it.”
“I like my car.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“You’re being a snob.”
“I want my wife to accept the gifts I offer. That doesn’t make me a snob. I’ve worked hard for the things I have, and I want to share them with you.”
Her eyes remained down.
“Look at me.”
There was a beat before she obeyed, before she lifted her gaze and focused on mine.
“Stop resisting.”
Her eyes glanced away momentarily before she spoke. “I appreciate your generosity, but I prefer to keep things separate. I want to earn my own money. I’ve never really had the opportunity before.”
Because her father was an asshole. “And what will you do with it?”
“I don’t ask you what you do with your money.”
“I’m just curious.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “Invest in property…grow my wealth.”
“Why do you need to grow your wealth when you’re married to a billionaire?”
“Because it’s not my money?—”
“It is your money.” I didn’t want to ruin our breakfast, the morning after a passionate night, but her words were like a slap across the face. “Unless…” I turned quiet, the truth dawning on me as I held her stare. “You think this marriage is temporary…”
She broke eye contact instantly. “I just?—”
“I meant what I said. I’ve pardoned your father once, but I won’t pardon him again. If he crosses me, his head is gone. Do you understand me?” I spoke at a regular volume in the café, not caring if anyone overheard me.
Of course, she looked horrified. “Axel?—”
“Do you understand me?”
“Let’s stop with the threats?—”
“Don’t cross me, Scarlett.” I rose to my feet and nearly tipped the chair over with the force. I left her there, surrounded by the dirty plates from the breakfast feast we’d just enjoyed, and stormed off.
I stayed out of the house for the day and most of the night.
She called me twice, several hours apart, and I ignored those calls. There were no texts.
When I came home, it was almost midnight. I walked past the guest bedroom where she had stayed when she first moved in, and I wondered if she’d moved her stuff back while I was gone.
I walked into my bedroom, expecting it to be quiet and dark, but the lamps were on, and the TV illuminated the walls with the flashing light. My eyes turned to the couch, seeing her there with a blanket over her body.
I stared for several seconds, surprised to see her awake long after her usual bedtime.
She stared back, hesitance in her position.
I walked past her and headed to the bedroom so I could kick off my boots and ditch all the clothes I wore. I hadn’t showered since yesterday, so I shut the bathroom door and stood under the warm water longer than I normally would. The sight of her should make me burn in excitement, but my anger was too potent.
I left the towel on the floor for Aldo to grab tomorrow and headed back into the bedroom.
She sat on the edge of the bed, wearing her silk pajamas, her long legs crossed.
Buck naked, I turned my back to her and pulled out a pair of boxers from the dresser. The drawer slid open and shut, and the TV was no longer audible in the next room because she’d switched it off. I pulled them on then turned to her.
Her gaze faltered under my heavy stare, the intensity too much for her to absorb.
“If you have something to say, say it,” I snapped. “I’m fucking tired.” I wasn’t tired at all, and I wasn’t sure how I would sleep next to her tonight. Not because I wanted her, but because, for the first time, I didn’t want her.
