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“I busted my ass for you.”
“You can complain later.” I hang up as Chiara bites into her toast, her eyes twitching.
“Don’t wait for me tonight.”
“Wouldn’t want to keep you away from your side chicks.”
“Whatever you say.”
We’re engaged in a full-on cold war.
I leave and meet up with Cameron and Lauren at the compound. She’s all over me with her questions, asking how Chiara liked the remodel.
Exasperated with her many questions, I snap at her, “She loved it, happy?”
She nods and turns to the numbers on the files. We’re getting richer by the month.
After all the tedious business, I’m left alone with Cameron. “So, are you trying to seduce your wife?”
“Fuck you,” I grumble.
“This passive-aggressive bullshit is new. She must be getting to you.”
“She drives me fucking crazy.”
***
I bury myself in my work, and at night, I fuck her. Nothing I do helps. Not me trying to make her feel comfortable with our life and giving her as much freedom as she can have in our position. Chiara is set on not accepting what’s happening between us. It’s been weeks and nothing’s changed. She’s desperate to give in but is petrified she’ll lose herself. She insists on seeing me as the fucking villain. But I need my head in the game and letting her occupy all my waking and sleeping moments is counterproductive. And it’s not that she complains, it’s as if we finally came to a silent agreement. I get access to her body, and I am at home for as few hours as possible.
On Thursday night, I find her in the studio. I catch myself like this so often in the day, thinking of her, wanting to call or even text her. And at night struggling to ask how her day was or if she wants to create jewelry professionally. I am a walking contradiction, divided between need and a clear head, and in the end, my weakness beats me every time.
I take another look at her. She knows I’m here. It’s in the way she holds her breath, as if wondering what I am going to do.Nothing, cara. I am doing nothing, just admiring you.Chasing her means allowing myself a smidgen of hope that one day she’ll want to stay and be mine.
“Are you going to stare at me the entire night?”
How come the moment I want to take a step back, she wields her rope and snaps me back to her? But I turn, leaving. This is the first time I don’t partake in her challenges, but I am exhausted, hunting the sly motherfucker.
Every day Sergio’s alive leaves our conquest of the east on shaky ground. Not to mention what it would mean if whatever supporters he might have find out about my only weakness—Chiara. Then, there is Hayden. Who the fuck is he? Between work and me pathetically wanting a woman while the woman wants me only for my cock, I am exhausted. Never thought that would sting, but then again, I never thought I’d be so completely mad about a woman.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey when she storms inside my home office. If I’ve learned anything, it’s not only that she hates not having my attention but hates herself more for wanting my attention. I am not the only contradiction in this house.
“I asked you a question.”
I rub my temples and take a swig of my drink. “What do you want, Chiara?”
“Did you hit your head or something?” She approaches me, and I cock my head. She’s wearing a flimsy kimono.
“Is that for me?” But my voice lacks the usual sexual tone.
Her brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you care?”
“Fine, be an asshole, what do I care.”
“Next Friday we have a gala to attend.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
