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When my lips part so I can argue with him, he shakes his head and gives me a look of warning.
“You’re my girlfriend, and that means I get to take care of you. It’s not open for discussion. I understand you’re a strong, independent woman, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and watch you work yourself to death.”
My lips part again, but he stops me from talking with another serious look while saying, “I’m not done yet.”
Okay.
I’m liking this dominant side of him.
Dario sits down in front of me, moving his hand from my chin to the side of my neck.
“We have to meet in the middle, Tesoro. I won’t keep you from working, but you have to let me do things for you. Starting with me buying you a new phone.”
Looking at the man who’s stolen my heart, I suppress the urge to argue. I know I can be stubborn, but I can’t just think about myself anymore.
“It’s going to be difficult,” I admit. “I’m not used to taking things from people.”
“I’m not people.” He tilts his head. “I’m your boyfriend.”
“What if I make all these changes, and you break up with me?” I ask the question that worries me most.
Dario surprises the hell out of me when he says, “If it’s security you need, I’ll marry you tomorrow.”
“Huh?”
I blink at the man as if he’s lost his mind. When the words sink in, I start to laugh, shaking my head.
“It’s way too soon.”
“Not for me.”
Realizing he’s serious, I gape at him. “Jesus, Dario. We’ve only dated for a few weeks. Marriage is a serious commitment.”
“So?”
“Two weeks!” I give him an incredulous look.
With a dead serious expression, he mutters, “It doesn’t matter whether we’re dating or married because I’m never letting you go.”
“We can talk about marriage at a much later stage,” I say. Wiping a hand over my forehead, I mumble, “Now I’ve forgotten what we were talking about.”
“You said you’re scared of making changes and talked shit about us breaking up, then I brought up marriage, and you freaked out,” he reminds me.
“Right.” I let out a sigh, and feeling tired from the intense conversation, I lie down.
Dario crawls over me and bracing his hands on either side of my head, he locks eyes with me.
“You need security, and I want to give it to you. Let me transfer an amount into your bank account, so if the impossible happens and we break up, you’ll have money while you figure out what to do.”
“I can’t just take your money,” I mutter.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “When you’re better, you’ll dance for me every night. Take the money as payment.”
You need to meet him in the middle.
But damn, it’s difficult.
Giving in, I nod. “Okay.”
