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“Yes, but you’re welcome to decorate however you want if it’s not to your taste.”
It’s exactly my taste.
“It’ll do, thank you,” I mutter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like some time alone.”
“Of course.”
I glance over my shoulder to find his eyes searching mine.
He seems hesitant to leave, but something on my face makes the decision for him because he offers me a curt nod before closing the door, leaving me alone in my new room.
I perch on the edge of the bed, glancing around my room with nothing but a growing sense of dread in the pit of my stomach for company.
“How the fuck did I end up here?”
7
ALEXEI
Five mornings in a row I’ve come down to the kitchen to find Bianca brewing coffee, wearing everything from a long T-shirt that barely covers her ass to micro shorts and a tank top. Her long brown hair is normally piled messily on top of her head, and I itch to pull it free and run my fingers through the silky strands.
She’s trying to kill me.
I know it’s in part because of my rejection on the night of our wedding. In truth, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless, but she was drunk and vulnerable. And despite what she might think, I’m not an asshole.
So instead, I get to admire the Bianca show every morning, leaving me sporting a constant semi at the thought of those ridiculously small shorts and the tank tops that leave very little to the imagination.
It doesn’t help that I know exactly what’s beneath said tank tops, and it’s enough to have me jumping in a cold shower every day to try and calm the fuck down.
“Morning.” I slip onto a stool at the breakfast bar.
It’s barely seven, but it seems this is our new routine for now. It’s clear that sleep is not coming easy to Bianca from the dark circles that have started to appear beneath those beautiful blue eyes, but I’m giving her a week. A week to adjust to the house, the marriage, me.
Then if there’s no improvement in her mood, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.
I set my hands on the counter. “How did you sleep?”
Bianca ignores me as she loads the filter into the machine and turns it on.
I smirk as I watch her, my eyes flicking down to take in her delicious curves.
How I had the strength to turn her down is beyond me.
“I tossed and turned all night.” I slide off my stool to give her a hand.
I reach into one of the overhead cupboards and take out two glass mugs, all the while glancing sidelong at Bianca to gauge her reactions. But she stays quiet as she moves to the fridge to get the creamer. “Maybe it’s because I know you’re just across the hall wearing those skimpy little shorts…”
She freezes, her hands gripping the handle of the fridge so hard her knuckles turn white.
There it is.
“Do you want me to picture you in those shorts, Bianca? Is that why you parade around here with your ass practically on show?”
“I wear them—” She yanks open the fridge and pulls out the creamer. “—because my pig of a husband stocked my wardrobe with clothes that barely cover my ass.”
I bark a laugh, enjoying the sight of that scowl on her face once more. It’s better than the blank look I sometimes catch in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking.
I’m well aware of the fact that she’s in my home against her will. That if she had a choice, she would leave in an instant, no matter if there is a hint of a spark between us that I am so desperate to explore.
