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I file that away as something to explore later.
I frown as another thought comes to me. "Where do you think you're going dressed like that anyway?" Jealousy rises up within me when I imagine her going on a date with another man.
"I'm going dancing," she spits back before she adds defiantly, "as if it's any of your business."
My jealousy increases tenfold. I know from personal experience the sleazy fuckers who are in those clubs, and I know exactly what they're looking for. There's no way in hell she's going to one of those places dressed like this. Every man in the room will be on her, and then I'll have to murder them.
"Go change and we'll go together," I order her. Fire flashes in her eyes, and she tosses her head again. I can tell she's not going to make this easy.
"You owe me a day," I remind her. "We had a deal, and my day isn't over yet."
She purses her lips, pissed because I have a point. She glances up at me in exasperation and finally rolls her eyes.
"Fine. I'll let you come with, but I'm not changing."
I laugh, amused by the way she says she'll "let" me go with her as if she has a choice.
I shrug, making my tone as impassive as possible. "Fine. Don't change then." I begin unbuttoning my shirt. "I don't need this shirt anyway." I'm wearing an undershirt underneath it, and even if I wasn't, it doesn't matter. I meant what I said.
She takes a step back from me and scowls up at me. "What are you doing?"
"You can wear my shirt, or you can change, but one way or the other, you're not going out in just that."
Her scowl deepens, and then she finally holds up her hands. I stop unbuttoning my shirt, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Okay. I'll go change," she finally relents.
I know I'm not going to get an invitation inside her hotel room, so I prop my shoulder against the doorframe. "I'll wait here."
She turns with a huff and mutters as she goes inside.
I can't wipe the smirk off my face, knowing that I’ve won this round. But my mirth quickly fades when I think of what I'm still going to have to deal with at the club. It doesn't matter what she wears. She's so beautiful men are going to be after her no matter what.
My jaw hardens.
I'll be damned if I let anyone else touch her.
She's mine.
* * *
Sophie
I can't believe I'm actually changing. I'm not doing it because Axe told me to, I tell myself. I'm doing it because on second thought, I'm not really comfortable in that outfit anyway.
And I don't feel like fighting with him. I know he won't let it go. and I don't want him to throw me over his shoulder or for him to physically undress me himself. Because I honestly wouldn't put it past him. He's completely crazy.
When I come out of the room, I splay my arms out sarcastically for his perusal. My body heats as his eyes rove over me from top to bottom. He gives a curt nod of approval.
I'm still wearing a short skirt, but it's not nearly as short as the one I previously had on. The top is the same, though, and when I turn around to close the door, I hear him hiss out of a breath when he sees my back completely exposed.
I try to hide the smile that plays at the corner of my lips. I'm secretly pleased at his reaction, though I'll never let him know that. I mentally berate myself for taking pleasure in Axe liking my appearance. Why do I care what he thinks anyway?
He takes my hand and leads the way to the club. I don't even have to tell him which one I was planning on going to. He seems to instinctively know. Neither of us speak on the short walk, all of our early camaraderie broken. I refuse to look jealous and ask him about the woman who interrupted us, and he doesn't mention her, so that's fine with me. We don't have to talk.
When we get in the line, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his side like we're any other couple waiting to get in.
My heart pounds rapidly against my ribcage at the close proximity to him. I can smell his aftershave. It smells expensive and spicy and deliciously masculine. I just try to focus on not tripping in these damned heels I insisted on wearing.
