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He softens slightly. “I understand you might be uncomfortable. There’s wine downstairs if that might help.”
“Great, trying to get me drunk? Very classy.”
“Trying to help you loosen up. But if you want to get drunk and fuck—”
“No, thanks,” I say quickly. “Also, I’m your wife, no need to be crude.”
He stretches languidly. “If you didn’t like it, I wouldn’t say it.”
“I’m glad you know me better than I know myself.” I pause, looking around. “Where’s my stuff?”
“Closet,” he says, gesturing.
I head into the enormous walk-in, and stand there for a second, my mouth open. I expected to find the clothes he’d bought me in Vegas, but instead, the racks, shelves, cubbies, and storage containers are packed with all my things from my apartment.
Slowly, I step back out. “Nolan. What did you do?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” He’s grinning though, the bastard.
“You brought my stuff over.”
“Oh, that? I figured you’d be happy. No need for you to even think about it.”
“How did you get into my apartment?”
He waves that off. “I’d be a shitty criminal if I couldn’t break into your dumpy little apartment.”
“My place isn’t—” I catch myself, breathing deeply. This is what he wants, to get me all riled up. I turn away, plunge back into the closet, and stand there for a few beats getting myself acclimated.
I have to admit, it’s a beautiful closet. One of those spaces that’s more like a small bedroom with an island in the middle filled with jewelry. All my personal pieces are in there, alongside things I’ve never seen before. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, most of it not my style, but all of it obscenely expensive.
And none of it was here this morning.
I find my pajamas in a drawer, grab out the least flattering sweats I can manage, and get changed as fast as I can. Then I stroll into the bathroom, ignoring the way he catcalls and whistles at me. I brush my teeth, so my usual nightly routine—all my products are here too, all of them brand new—then throw myself into bed.
Nolan looks at me for a long moment, that frustrating smile plastered on his face. I finally can’t take it anymore and crack. “You should’ve asked me before moving my stuff.”
His eyebrows raise. “That’s your issue?”
“It’smystuff. I understand you’re my husband, but there has to be some space between us.”
“That’s the whole point of this. To flatten that distance. I want to bring you closer.”
“I don’t care what you want.” I sit up on my elbow, glaring at him. “I want to be consulted. I wantchoice.”
He’s silent for a moment. Then he rolls to the other side, grabs a remote from his nightstand, and hits a few buttons. The door shuts, an alarm system beeps, and the lights dim down until they turn off entirely, plunging the room into darkness.
I lie back, heart beating fast. I keep expecting to feel him in the darkness. I figure I’ll either punch him in the nose or start screaming, probably both. Instead, when my eyes finally adjust, he’s lying on his back and looking up at the ceiling.
“That’s important to you,” he says after a little while right when I’m on the edge of sleep.
I grumble, annoyed. “What’simportant?”
“Choice.” He sounds interested. “That’s why you wouldn’t take money from Ash. That’s why you resisted my money, although you caved once you realized you really did want to be my wife.”
“I caved because you blackmailed me,” I mutter, too sleep to be angry.
“Why did you decide all of this now? Why not months ago or years ago?”
