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I have this maddening urge to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze. “I’ll go nuts with nothing to do. I can’t live like that.”
“I’ll give you some funds. Start a charity or something.”
“A charity?” I gape at him. “I sew wounds and insert catheters. I have no idea how charities work or how I’d even set one up.”
“Google it.”
Google it. Great. “Why did you insist on marrying me?”
“I’ve already told you. I have my reasons.”
“Will you share those reasons with me?”
He looks up at me, those piercing amber eyes sending laser beams directly into mine. I want to look away, but I can’t.
“No,” he says and goes back to his dinner once again. “We’re going to an auction next week. There is a painting I’m planning to buy. Do you have a dress?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Salvatore.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I said no.”
“It doesn’t matter what you say, Milene. I want you to come with me, so you’re doing so voluntarily, or I’ll be dragging you. It’s your choice.”
I grip the fork in my hand and lean forward until my face is right in front of his. “Fuck. You.” I sneer.
He watches me for a moment, then his hand shoots out and grabs my chin before I can move a muscle. “I will, cara.”
I lean away, escaping his tender hold. “Keep dreaming. You’re not coming anywhere near my pussy.”
I might be wrong, but it seems like the corner of his lips curl upward a little bit. “If you don’t have a suitable dress, Alessandro will take you to buy one. I don’t want you going in that short disco-ball creation you wore at the bar. You need something that will cover your ass this time.”
“Oh? So you ogled my ass?”
“Of course I did,” he says, picks up his plate and carries it over to the dishwasher.
I watch as he walks away toward the private part of the penthouse, enjoying the view of his backside in charcoal dress pants, despite my better instincts. That ass is sexy as fuck, and it goes perfectly with his narrow waist and wide shoulders. I don’t remember ever meeting a man who wears suits the way Salvatore does, as if he were born in one. He’s seriously hot and... Stop, damn it! As handsome as he is, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole. I’d better remember that.
Chapter 9
I’ve just finished brewing my coffee when Milene comes out of the hallway and trudges across the living room toward the kitchen. Her hair is a mess, her feet are bare, and she’s carrying that defective animal under her arm like it’s a purse. In the kitchen, she mumbles something as she passes by me, bound for the fridge. She opens the door and takes out a carton of milk, then crosses to the counter. The cat is still under her right arm and currently giving me the evil eye.
After the lunch yesterday, she disappeared into her room and didn’t come out. Obviously, she’s trying her best to avoid me. I take the tangled strand which has fallen over her face and move it away, making sure the back of my fingers brush the skin of her cheek. Milene throws me a sideways look, which I assume is meant to be angry, but the overall impression is somewhat ruined with her yawn.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“I binge-watched the last season ofStranger Thingslast night. Finished at four and couldn’t sleep.”
She looks over to the coffee machine in front of her, then switches her gaze to the coffee I’ve prepared for myself and leans forward to inhale the scent. She tentatively reaches out to wrap her hand around the cup and slowly pulls it along the counter. Once she has the coffee in front of her, she looks at me from the corner of her eye, probably awaiting my reaction. Without breaking eye contact, she reaches for the milk and pours a bit into the coffee. My coffee. Which I drink black. Finishing up with the milk, she stretches toward a container of sugar, but it’s out of her reach. Our gazes remain locked. Without taking my eyes off hers, I drag the sugar along the counter until it’s in front of her. It’s a screw-top, so she’ll need to put the cat down.
Instead of doing so, she thrusts the scrawny animal into my arms and proceeds to open the jar. The cat looks even worse up close. Part of its left ear is missing, and it seems like one of its eyes is looking in the wrong direction.
“This is the ugliest cat I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” I say.
Milene’s head snaps up, her eyes widening. “That was mean.”
She reaches for the cat. The damn thing picks that exact moment to wake up from its lethargic state and leaps onto the counter, scratching my wrist with its hind paw.
