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“What’s up your ass today?” he growls, and I scoff back at him.
Oh, I don’t know... Maybe the fact that you ran like I was going to give you a disease after you touched me?
“Haven’t seen you since last night—you know, when you were a fucking prick? You couldn’t even be bothered to help me move.” Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I still feel the sting of his rejection. He doesn’t even look at me; he just continues to watch everyone carrying the boxes to my room.
I honestly can’t even call it a room. It’s like a whole apartment on the second floor. When you walk in the door, there's a sitting area with a couch and coffee table. To the left, there’s a small hallway that leads to the huge bedroom.
My room is bigger than the damn apartment I just emptied out.
“I’ve got money for those sorts of things.” He completely ignores my comment about last night. Looking at him, he gives nothing away, still keeping up that mask of indifference.
“You don’t have to use money for everything. When you have people to help, why waste the money?”
I argued with Marnix about this for days. He wanted to hire people to move everything, but I refused to spend money on something I could do myself. That’s how my life has always been—spend money only when you have to. When it’s absolutely necessary.
We finally compromised. He would hire people to move my furniture to a storage unit since he’d furnished my room already, and I’d handle the rest.
They always say that you know who your real friends are when it’s time to move. Lya and the guys agreed without hesitation to help. Thank goodness, because I’d have been dead trying to move all that stuff myself.
“Why would you want to do the work when someone else can do it for you?” he asks curiously.
I know he’s probably never had to lift a finger in his life, but we haven’t all been that lucky. “I guess I’m used to it,” I say thoughtfully. I realize my walls are falling, so I quickly push them back up. “Some of us didn’t have people to wipe our asses, Your Highness.”
“It’s always something with you. I’m providing you with everything you could ever dream of, and you’re still being stubborn. You’re acting like I’m forcing you into a prison cell rather than a mansion. ”
Who does he think he is?
“Are you trying to buy me, Marnix? You want my respect?” His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches when his full name comes from my lips. “Tara Mangal cannot be bought. You’re gonna have to do more than give me money, buy me things, and put me in a fancy room if you want my respect.” He might be giving me money to take care of the restaurant, but that won’t get him an ounce of respect. That shit is earned—not bought.
He narrows his eyes. The only reply I get is, “Taylor.”
His response frazzles me, catching me off guard. “What?”
“Your last name. It’s Taylor.”
I cross my arms, popping my hip. “It will never truly be Taylor. After this year, I’m free.”
Marnix smirks, taking a step closer to me. The look in his eye is scary. Whatever he’s about to say, he obviously means. “Our arrangement might be for a year, but you’ll never truly be free, peasant. You may go back to the dumpster where you lived, walking away to never talk to me again and pretend this never happened. But you’ll always be known as a Taylor.” He takes another step. Close enough to where his breath skates across my lips, sending a chill down my spine reminding me of how close we were last night. “By the time this year is up, everyone will know your name. Because you’re married to me.”
Marnix Taylor is the most egotistical man I’ve ever met.
“How fucking unfortunate for me to be associated with you. If I didn’t have to, I’d never waste my time on an asshole like you,” I whisper, my glare not wavering.
I hear someone walk into the room behind me and pause. “Shit. Sorry for interrupting,” Zep murmurs under his breath, turning to head back upstairs.
I take a step back from Marnix, trying to calm my erratic breathing. Trying to avoid this weird feeling I get around him. “It’s fine, Zep. You’re not interrupting anything.” Marnix glares at me, but doesn’t say anything.
Zep looks around awkwardly. “We’re almost done, then we’ve gotta get back to Amelia so we’ll be leaving,” he says, rushing past us to get outside.
“If I don’t see Lya before you leave, tell her to call me tonight,” I yell before he can get out the door.
Zep lifts his chin in acknowledgement. “Sure will.”
“Let’s go. I’ll show you around,” Marnix commands, leading me through the foyer where the engagement party was held. It’s different without all the tables and people. It’s empty and lonely. Except for that gorgeous white piano, which I’m itching to get my hands on.
Walking through the entryway, I see a large walnut-colored table with twelve chairs around it. I wonder if it’s real walnut or just stained. Three crystal chandeliers hang above the shiny surface.
Marnix gestures around us. “This is the dining room.”
