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A little shiver runs down my back. It’s not entirely unpleasant. “Arsen?—”
“It’s been a long day, Laila. Sleep in your clothes, my clothes—in the nude, for all I care.” He turns halfway and his eyes trail down my body, leaving heat everywhere they graze. I get the idea he can see straight through the pillow I’m still clutching as cover. “It doesn’t matter to me. But youwillsleep in this room.”
I look around the room for some kind of escape. The sofa in the corner will do. “I’ll take the couch.”
I expect him to argue, but Arsen just shrugs. “So be it. More room for me.”
Then he tugs the blinds closed, slips into bed, and shuts his eyes.
I stand there, uncertain, unthinking, weary to the bone in ways I didn’t know I could even be weary. The pillow in my hands is lukewarm with my body heat, and I’ve never felt more vulnerable.
A flash of amused green. Arsen’s eyes, shining in the dark. “Would you like me to move over or are you still throwing a fit?”
I stomp away from him, snatching his shirt off the floor as I go. The moment I sink into the couch cushions, the lamp on Arsen’s bedside table goes off.
I lie in the dark for a long time before I finally give into the exhaustion.
This sleep isn’t as good as last night’s, though.
It’s too lonely for that.
24
LAILA
When the delivery truck pulls down the drive, I nearly crash into Dominik trying to get to the door.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asks.
I lean around him, squealing when I see the trunk at the base of the steps. “I’m expecting a package.”
“That is yours?” He whistles long and low. “It’s huge. What is it?”
“It’s me finally doing what Arsen wants.” I smirk. “He told me to spend his money, so, like the dutiful, obedient wife I am, that’s exactly what I did.”
Dominik sighs miserably. “Peace. All I want in this house is a little peace. Is that so much to ask?”
“Probably.” I clap him on the back. “Mind grabbing that for me?”
“Carting your packages around seems like a husband’s job. Since yours is pulling in the drive now, maybe he can do it.”
I look past Dominik again, and sure enough, Arsen’s car is pulling up to the garage. “Shit. Hurry, Dom! Grab the trunk. Move, move!”
“What am I, your pack mule?” he grumbles even as he bends down and heaves the chest into his arms. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this stupid thing is heavy. Where am I taking it?”
“My room.Ourroom,” I correct with an eyeroll. “And hurry. I don’t want Arsen to see it yet.”
He stops at the base of the stairs, eyebrow arched. “If there’s a bomb in here, I’m going to get fired. You do know that, right?”
“Nothing in that trunk will get you fired,” I assure him. Then I snap my fingers. “But I will if you don’t put some pep in that step.”
He mumbles something about “disrespect” under his breath, but I’m too focused on that chest being out of sight before Arsen gets inside to care. I’ll apologize to Dom later. One olive branch offering of a red velvet cupcake and he’ll be good as new. The man is easy in that regard.
Arsen? Not so much.
I wait at the base of the stairs, an ear cocked in the direction of the garage, until I hear the telltale signs of Arsen punching in his security code and his keys dropping into the bowl in the kitchen. Only then do I scurry upstairs.
I’m at the top landing when I hear Arsen’s voice calling up to me from below. “Where are you going?”
