Page 436 of Stanton Box Set


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“When I tell you to get to the house, you fucking do what I say!” he sneers.

I stop on the spot and glare at him.

The thing is that I know he is stressed out beyond belief and I should just ignore him, but just how much shit can I take before I crack?

“Don’t talk to me,” I snap as I storm past him.

“Fine! Don’t talk to me!” he screams.

“Suits me!” I yell in reply.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again. It’s a total mindfuck dealing with a cantankerous stubborn mule. It’s 6 pm and Joshua and I haven’t spoken a word since our blow-up over Amelie this morning. I am in the study reading on my iPad and he came in from outside about an hour ago. If he thinks I am putting up with his shit for one minute he is sadly mistaken.

The door to the study opens. “Who’s cooking dinner?” he asks.

My eyes rise to him above my iPad. “Not me,” I reply and drop my eyes back to the screen.

He stays at the door and waits for me to look back up at him. I don’t.

“Well I’m not either,” he replies.

I keep reading and acting like I am uninterested in what he has to say.

“Do you want to go out for dinner?” he asks.

Hmm, typical. I have to practically beg to go out to dinner every other night because he doesn’t want to be photographed but when I am fuming mad he brings it out to dangle like a carrot.

“No, thank you,” I reply. I so do but I am not falling for his bribe.

“Fine, I will go alone then,” he replies and leaves.

For fifteen minutes I sit in the study while he is upstairs. He wouldn’t go without me, would he? No, surely not. I continue reading.

He pops his head in the study door. “See you later then,” he replies. My horrified eyes drop down to his clothing. He is going without me. Of all the nerve. I narrow my eyes and return to the book I have been pretending to read for five hours.

“See you,” I murmur under my breath.

He walks out of the study. God, I’m off him. I start to fume.

He comes back in. “What are you mad about?”

I screw up my face. “You can’t be that stupid?” I reply in a monotone.

His eyes hold mine. “I’m not putting up with Amelie’s shit, Natasha.”

“I don’t expect you to, Joshua, but you acted like a child throwing a tantrum,” I reply.

He narrows his eyes at me.

“I will not be spoken to the way you did this morning and I don’t give a damn who you are. I was embarrassed that my fiancé was ordering me around like I was one of his staff.”

He blows out a breath. “I apologise for that. I was angry and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

I put the iPad down.

He shakes his head in frustration. “It’s just her,” he mutters.

“You know what? This little victim routine you have going on he

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