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His face skews at my comment. As if he never considered himself large in the sense that he has double the muscles in his arms alone than I have in my whole body. “Clear it out.”
I’m about to lose my entire shit right now.
“And I’m hungry.”
My jaw actually drops a tad. “I just fed you.”
He doesn’t change his solemn expression. I guess he wouldn’t care. I’m at his disposal at all times. “I’m hungry again.”
Averting my gaze, I remind myself that this is all my doing and not his. He’s just milking the hell out of it. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
Mother of fuck.
Unhurriedly, I steer my focus back to him, already finding him with his eyes still locked on me. I wonder if he thinks if he pushes me hard enough, I’ll quit or snap or maybe throw something at him.
The latter would be my first choice.
“I’m sure you don’t want to stand here with me and do a five-minute guessing game. So, do you want me to just pick something out for you, or do you want to give me some choices?”
He holds my stare, and I wonder if he’s hoping I’m going to break down and start rambling off places to eat off the top of my head.
However, I’m not his mother, and I sure as hell wouldn’t do that for a fake boyfriend. He’s a grown-ass man, for fuck’s sake.
“I don’t like hummus, I don’t like tomatoes, and don’t get me a salad.”
I lift my shoulders. “Okay.”
Hudson pushes off the frame. “My next appointment is at one. I want to eat before then.”
Glancing down at my rose gold watch, it’s twelve twenty-five.
Fuck.
Striding to get the hell out of here so I can figure this out, Hudson doesn’t move. He only continues to gape down at me like I’m a nuisance or a foster kid that he didn’t want to take in.
“Do you mind?” I solicit, jerking my head to the side to allude that in order for me to get his lunch he needs to move his big ass.
“How long are you going to go through with this, Olivia?”
“It’s Olive,” I retort with a clip to my tone. “And for a month, as we agreed.”
He smirks at me, and it’s evil as fuck. “Nice try. It’s three months. And, for a twenty-three-year-old, you sure are naive to think I’m going to go easy on you.”
“Oh, trust me”—I give him a shitty little smile—“I know I won’t be getting any special treatment from you, Mr. Stoll.”
In fact, I think you’ll go home and jerk off from working me to death.
Hudson steps to the side, allowing me enough space to exit the room. “Hurry your ass up.”
Fuck off.
It’s what I want to tell him, but—again—I agreed to this. This is my cross to bear. So, for ninety days, I’m going to be put through hell to keep some of my inner peace.
Thanks, Mom.
five
