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So, I wasn’t sly enough.
“How did you know I was awake?” I ask, my voice a bit above a whisper.
“Your breathing changed.”
I nod, and it’s silent for a while. But my headspace is suddenly filled with curiosity again.
“The club you own. You said it’s a sex club?”
Nico is smart. Arrogant and blatantly cocky, but he is smart.
“I do. Why?”
I shrug, that ping happening in my gut again. There is no way I will let him make me feel like I’m not good enough to have a faithful husband. No. No way in fucking hell.
“Curious. That’s all.”
He releases a deep sigh.“Emelia. You drive me up the fucking wall. In fact, I have the thought to call off this deal every second you act like you did earlier. But… I am not fucking any other woman.”
There is a sudden ease that comes over me, and I would physically kick my own ass if I could for being relieved.
Relieved, but not ignorant.
“You don’t have to be such a prick. I didn’t want to marry you either. I would rather be physically tortured than deal with you.” I scoot closer to the edge of the bed.
“Coming home to you is going to be a fucking delight every night, isn’t it?”
I debate what to say. Finally, I release a big sigh. “I will wave the white flag now. What good will it do if we’re just constantly at each other’s throat?”
“Good. It would do nothing but make this that much more unbearable. Go to bed, Emelia.”
“Don’t you think we should talk? Get to know one another a bit?”
“What do you want to know?” He blows out a breath as he moves a bit.
I make sure to keep my back turned to him. It feels safe. Keeps the vulnerability at a minimum.“Do you have any hobbies? Other than sex clubs, weapons, drugs, and murder.”
This has a small laugh leaving him, and I smile at the sound. It’s warm, his laugh. It’s the deep kind, the one that comes from low in the chest.
“You think that’s all I do?”
“Isn’t it? Tell me the last time you did something morally ethical in your day-to-day?”
He doesn’t speak for a moment.
“Fair. But being moral doesn’t really fit in with my lifestyle. Or maybe I find what I do very ethical to my own morals.”
Rolling my eyes, I scoff.“That is such a mafia response. Hiding behind that wall of yours seems very lonely. You should think about lowering it. Get some hobbies. Oh! Maybe even some friends,” I tease.
“I have friends, Emelia.”
“Henchmen aren’t friends; they’re employees.” I can practically feel the eye roll he probably just gave me.
“No one needs friends. Especially when they have a wife like you. I’m too busy just trying to cope and live with you. There is no room for more.”
This has me turning toward him. “That’s rude. You have no idea who I am or what I’m like. I could be the most interesting person you’ve ever met.”
“Or the most stubborn.” He looks at me, and I see his position now, the city lights helping my eyes adjust to the darkness. He looks comfortable, relaxed, and his body… wow. He is shirtless, the sheet pulled up to just beneath his belly button. The flesh exposed is taught and defined with some scarring and, surprisingly, only a few tattoos.
