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I storm to the bedroom and slide the double door shut. The glass panels rattle at the impact. I yank off my dress and kick it under the bed, then take a long shower, letting the water melt my tense muscles and wash away all the tears. I won’t cry in front of him.
Back in the room, I take out the red-and-black risqué underwear that I bought, hoping we could rekindle some lust as a first step in this thorny reconciliation. I hesitate for a moment, but then put it on. It’s sexy as hell. Provocative, yet classy.
I sit on the bed, not bothering with the covers, and wait.
And wait.
The minutes stretch as I will my fiancé to come to our bed.
Screw it!
I jump up and slide the door open, but I falter, unsure what I want to do. Gio is fully focused on his work.
“Are you going to work all night?” I snap, but the quiver in my voice takes away from the intended effect.
Gio raises his eyes with the same annoyance he bestows on everybody, but his eyebrows jerk up when he takes me in. He looks at me like he can see deep into my soul.
I step forward, not sure why. Mostly to focus on something other than his eyes. They burn. They prickle. They smart.
He slides his gaze down my body, taking in every inch of me and the lacy lingerie. Languid. Heated. Carnal.
And then, without meeting my gaze, he shakes his head as if he realized his ogling is inappropriate or, based on his expression, even unsanitary.
“Do you want a selfie to show the world?” If he slapped me, it would hurt less.
Dejection and anger mix a powerful cocktail in my veins. I have nothing to be ashamed of, damn it. He proposed to me.
“Are you seriously comparing me to all your other women?”
“Are you claiming to be different?” He smirks. “I have a draft of our prenup to prove otherwise. You might be less superficial than them, but at the end of the day you want from me what everyone else does. Maybe not the prestige or the fucking selfies, but the money for sure.”
How could he suggest my desperate family situation is anything like the motivation of social ladders climbers? Is he so blind?
“Youmade that proposal.” Fuck him. I’m not letting him drag me even deeper into this world of disillusion. “You came up with the whole thing. Why do you pretend that’s where my motivation lies? What’syourmotivation for the whole thing?”
“I made a mistake. I offered you a marriage partnership because I thought it was the only way for me. I realized I was wrong to lump you with all those other women. Or so I thought. You didn’t fucking let me apologize or explain. But then you had a shitty day and suddenly you were ready to talk. I fucking tried every fucking day, Mila, to reach you and discuss my mistake.” He chuckles, bitterness spreading in the air between us. “Ultimately, youwerefor sale.”
I flinch at his words. At the tragedy of the misunderstanding. If I had only shut up and let him talk first in the car, he would have helped me with my financial problems without this charade of an engagement. Would I have accepted his help? No point in pondering that anymore. My dignity is gone anyway.
I tremble with the unshed tears and those pushing their way out.
“Fuuuuck.” Gio runs his hands through his hair, and then he looks at me again.
Those deep, dark eyes.
We stare at each other, unsaid words and tension filling the room. The heat of his gaze burns my skin.
“Then take what’s yours. You bought me, after all. That’s the only way you can have a relationship, right?” An eye for an eye.
Whoever said vengeance makes you feel better was an idiot. My words brand us both.
He eats the distance between us and pinches my chin between his thumb and index finger, his nostrils flaring. We pant like hunted animals, desperately needing the escape.
His scent spreads unwarranted peace through me. I want to rebel against it, but his heat, so wonderfully familiar, rips through me like an avalanche. My body yearns for his caress. For his care.
“As you wish, dear fiancée,” he grits out, spins me around and pushes me against the wall, covering me with his solid body. He’s been dominant, but never this forceful. I should be scared, but strangely I’m reveling in his manhandling.
If only giving him this control would put us on the same ground. Where we can meet and discuss our mistakes, to pass beyond them.
