“Tucker’s been teaching me how to cook some,” I said quickly, straightening my back. “And Mama’s been giving me tips, too. I mean, I didn’tcookanything for you for lunch, but I made you a sandwich and put together a salad for you. Maybe tonight I could cook dinner? Or try.” I laughed nervously and ran a hand down my heated cheek.
He smiled, and my heart slowed in relief as he cupped my jaw and kissed me again. “You’re amazing, little mouse.”
I flashed him a grin. “Eat it on the way to the school if you have to.”
He nodded, opening the bag to check inside. His smile grew wider and lit up his entire face. His freckles were more vibrant, and lines dipped into the corners of his eyes. He was handsome like this—when he was truly happy.
“That’s not all.” I grasped his wrist and guided him to the living room.
He let me drag him along, and that was another difference I’d seen in him since our visit to Texas—he’d relaxed some, allowing me to take more control than I’d had when I’d first moved in. It was nice and made me feel more like we were equals.
When we got to the living room, I waved at the sheet-covered canvas. “While you’ve been at work I’ve been painting you something.”
“Really?” he murmured, voice dropping a few octaves, and that one word had as much of a drawl to it as it had in Texas. A shiver passed through me, and I pressed my lips together to stop a moan from slipping out. “Show me, darlin’.”
I bit down on my bottom lip as I walked to the canvas. Nerves ate at my gut, and I sucked in a deep breath to steady myself. I’d enjoyed painting for as long as I remembered, but the last time I gave one as a present it had been a disaster. I was twelve at the time and it was for Mom’s birthday. She’d sneered at it and told me to get a better hobby, like shadowing my dad. I’d been crushed, and I’d never given a painting as a present again.
Until now.
I curled my fingers into the sheet, my heart drumming in a fast tempo as I tugged at the material, which slipped off the canvas and easel and fell to the carpet. The picture of me dressed in only tiny frilly underwear came alive on the canvas, painted in the most vibrant and realistic colors I could find. It was one of my best works yet, and I’d been proud of it the moment I’d finished, but I still held my breath as Alton stared at it carefully.
I stretched my fingers out at my side and thought up something, anything, to say to fill the silence. “I thought you could hang it in your office.” I licked my lips. “Think of me when you’re lonely and working. Maybe....” A chuckle slipped from my mouth. “Maybe it could convince you to join me in bed and fuck me. And when the six months are over... well, you can dump it in the trash if you want.”
Pain speared through me at the reminder, yet again, that in just over a month this was ending. Alton hadn’t said he wanted me to stay, and I was too scared to tell him I liked him more than I should. This hadn’t started out as anything more than a way to get back his money and screw over my dad, and he’d done both of those things. He’d told me that he’d paid back all the debts sitting on the Divine Conglomerate ledgers a few weeks ago. Our time was coming to an end and I was scared. I didn’t know who I was anymore after living five months with him—I hadn’t known at all before then.
His gaze shot to me and hardened. His mouth twisted, and the shock of seeing him so irritated surprised me into taking a step back. “Of course it’ll go in the garbage after you’re gone. Because this facade is over next month, and I’ll move on, back to my favorite whores. Bliss is nice.”
Fierce, hot pain sliced through my heart and the ability to breathe disappeared. My lungs wouldn’t inflate, and as I stepped forward to say something, he cleared his throat.
“Antoine will be taking you to the school today,” he said gruffly, throwing the lunch bag onto one of the side tables that housed a lamp. “I’ll be there later. Remember you’re representing me.” His voice had turned cold. Frightening. “In a month it’ll be over and you won’t have to worry about being a Bouchard, but until then, act like my husband.”
I hesitated, went to reach for him, but he spun on his heel and walked out the front doors, slamming the right one shut behind him. I winced away from the loud noise in the otherwise-quiet house. My shoulders shook, a mixture of surprise and pain boiling inside me.
The sound of footsteps had me holding my breath. Antoine appeared from the direction of the kitchen. He paused, hand pressed against his nice black suit, and narrowed his eyes on me. “What happened?”
I hadn’t realized there were tears in my eyes until one slid down my cheek. I swiped at it and shook my head, faking a smile. “Shall we go to the limo? I got a Hummer this time.” Without waiting for a response, I tugged at the lapels of my suit coat and raced out the front doors.
The stretch Hummer was already waiting, and the chauffeur opened the back door for me as I power walked toward it. I nodded in thanks as I slipped inside, and a few minutes later Antoine was beside me and we were moving.
I stared out the window, willing away the tears that flooded my eyes.
“What did he say?” Antoine asked, blunt as always.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“Forgive me, sir, but I call bullshit.”
It was hard not to laugh. Wiping away the tears again, I sniffled. “I think he got mad at me for mentioning the marriage being over in a month. Maybe? I don’t know.”
The large mansions of Vert Island passed slowly as I touched the tennis bracelet on my wrist. The diamonds were rough against the pads of my fingers but were a comfort, one I’d grown used to in five months.
Antoine made a sound and said something quietly I thought was “that dumbass.” He sighed. “May I say something, sir?”
I glanced at him. “Yes.”
He pursed his lips and laid his hands on his lap, and I didn’t think he was going to say anything at first before he sighed again. “Alton is not a person who expresses his feelings well.”
I snorted. “I don’t know why, his parents are amazing.”
