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He had no reaction to that. “And where did you guys go?”
“Pino’s.”
“They have damn good sandwiches.” His hand moved to his chin, scratching the tip like an itch bothered him.
“And they’re huge, hence the stomach and ass.”
He grinned. “And tits. Can’t forget those.” His eyes glanced down at the water, where my chest was hidden beneath the bubbles on the surface.
I smirked as I rolled my eyes.
“I need to fuck those tits sometime.”
“I don’t know if they’re big enough for that.” His dick was huge, and my chest was average size.
“They’re plenty big, baby.” His phone lit up, so he grabbed it and typed a quick message with a single hand. “Aldo is about to walk in. Make sure my girls are covered up.”
I moved the bubbles around, hiding all my goodies from the surface.
He didn’t bother to hide his junk.
Aldo walked in with the meal, a bottle of wine with two glasses, a bottle of scotch and a short glass, and then a stand that elevated the pizza from the tile floor. He set it all up, careful not to look at either of us, and then walked out.
“That’s a nice perk about being married to you,” I said. “Getting hot pizza delivered straight to the tub.”
“It’s not all the good sex?” He grabbed a slice and took a bite, his elbow propped on the side.
I grabbed my own slice then took a bite. “That’s second to this.”
He chuckled before he took another bite. “Food over sex, huh?”
“Yep. My stomach will agree.”
We ate our pizza, and Axel poured the wine. We fell into comfortable silence, both of us eating the fresh pizza that his chef had whipped up from scratch. It was a relaxing end to a long day. This was exactly what I needed after the tension with my father.
“How are things with your father?”
I stared at the slice in my hand, thinking about what he’d said about the Colombians wanting a ten percent increase in revenue. “I always have to walk on eggshells around him. I miss the way it used to be, when I could just be myself without having to worry about provoking him.”
“How do you provoke him?”
“You.”
He finished his slice and didn’t reach for another. “And what did you say about me?”
“Nothing important.”
He stared me down across the tub, his eyes applying pressure with their strength.
“I mentioned you offered to split your cut with me down the middle.”
“And why would that not be well received?”
“Thinks you’re manipulating me.”
“Manipulating you to do what?” he asked. “You’re already married to me. Already fucking me.”
“He thinks you’re trying to turn me against him.”
A slow smile crept on to his lips.
“What?”
The smile disappeared. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
He looked away, his arms dangling over the sides. “I know you don’t want to listen to me insult your father, so let’s leave it where it lies.” He reached for his wine and took a drink.
“He’s just paranoid, always been that way.”
“They say when people are paranoid about you crossing them, it’s because they’ve already thought about crossing you.”
“What are you saying?”
“That people who are suspicious about their partners cheating are the ones already doing the cheating.”
We’d just taken a turn down a seedy street, and I chose to let the silence defeat it.
He took another drink of his wine. “It seemed like you were in a bad mood when I walked inside.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But I know you.”
“We’ve only been living together for a week?—”
“But I knew you from before. Learned all your tells and all your moods.”
“My father and I…we just don’t agree on a lot of things when it comes to you.”
He set his glass down and stared at me.
“He thinks you’re guilty.”
“I know he does.”
“And I just…don’t.” I knew how stupid I looked, believing Axel when he gave me no reason to—but I just did. “And that upsets him.”
“If he really thought I smacked my wife around, why would he let me marry you?”
My eyes darted elsewhere.
“Now your safety isn’t an issue when his company is on the line?” He shook his head. “Or he doesn’t believe it, but uses it as an excuse.”
“I don’t know why that would be the case?—”
“So then, it’s the first one,” he snapped. “He doesn’t care if you’re marrying a rapist because his company is more important than your safety.”
My father was constantly a wedge between us. Always would be. “I told him I believed you, and then he threw the Cassandra incident in my face.”
His fingers immediately swiped across his mouth and jawline, his teeth clenched so hard the veins started to pop up his neck. “I’m sure he did.”
“I hate this,” I said quietly. “That my husband and father can’t tolerate each other.”
He stared at his glass, his eyes angry. “That’s something I can’t fix for you.”
“I know.”
“And even if I could…” His elbow was propped, and his fingertips were against his lips. “I don’t think I would.”
