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She walked past him.
Their bodies brushed.
“Are you upset that I didn’t mention she stopped by?”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
He remained in the bathroom doorway.
“Sort of. You said you wanted to make this feel like a real marriage, but you omitting your brilliant ex stopping by feels…suspicious.”
“I wasn’t the one who said that,” he pointed out. “You were.”
For a second, she forgot which one out of the two of them was the vampire with how much force he’d used to drive that stake through her heart.
Wrong was too delicate a word.
Somewhere along the way, she’d gotten her signals so mixed up, she’d started to believe he was interested in her. Sure, he’d said so. At times, he acted like it. Tonight, however, the real Lucas Saraci stood up, tall and proud.
“So,” she grabbed a pillow and tucked it against her midsection, “sex or no sex tonight, husband?”
His brows narrowed. “Why are you acting like this? You’re being…distant.”
“I’m the one acting distant? Saraci, whenever I kiss you, you act like I offend you by touching you with my disgusting lips.”
“Don’t hand me that bullshit.”
“You’ve barely said a word to me since the restaurant.”
“And you concluded that it’s because I find you disgusting?” He unfolded his arms. “Raina, what did I do after Emmaline came by?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I fell asleep. Maybe you went back to her place and fucked her.”
The bucket of green paint went from something she’d use to wash a car to a rainwater collection tank. Jealousy slid down the sides of her face in glops of green close to boiling point.
S-A-R-A-C-I.
He’d asked her to learn it, to spell it. He’d stormed into her sister’s home and all but demanded it because he would one day be hers.Thiswas why she’d agreed to the sham marriage. To prove a point. To prove this particular point.
Men were all talk.
Even the only one who ever came close to her heart didn’t deserve so much as a pinch of it. Hopefully, he left soon because she felt like a jackass—one on the verge of tears.
“I bought you a house,” he said, his voice so soft that her ears misconstrued it for hurt. “After Emmaline stopped by, I bought you a house.”
Her lips parted.
“And don’t argue that it’s Miguel’s,” he added. “You and I both know that if you wanted me to buy one, I would have.”
“I don’t know that.”
“Is this an act or something?”
She blinked back tears. “What, me feeling hurt? Yes, Lucas. It’s an act. Having the most fun I’ve had in a long time when all I did was play poker with you in Vegas? An act. Looking forward to hearing from you during Fashion Week? An act. Showing up tonight because I could see how important it was to you that I was there, and that matters to me? Call me Meryl fucking Streep.”
“Just say it.”
“Say what, Lucas? What could I possibly say that I haven’t shown you already?”
