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She blinks, and her cheeks are flushed.
I walk away.
20
SUNNY
My body is a traitor.
Why? Because my kidnapper-husband touched the corner of my mouth with his thumb, then put that thumb between his lips and tasted it. Tasted it. And instead of kneeing him somewhere useful, I stood there with my mouth parted and a throb pounding between my thighs.
I throw the dish towel at the sink and miss.
Although, he did slip up.
It was only for a second, but I saw it. When he stood in my space with his thumb on my mouth, I could see on his face that he wasn’t in control like he usually is. His eyes flared and his voice came out lower than he meant it to, and even if it was only for a second, it still means something big.
The evil twin actually feels things.
Which means it’s time to rethink my approach.
I've been fighting him ever since we met. Yet he simply absorbs all of it like it’s nothing.
Worse, I have a feeling he likes it.
And now he expects it from me.
But what if I give him something else.
Something he isn’t expecting.
Sunshine.
He can handle my hate. Hate is clearly his mother tongue. And a wife who spits fire is a wife he can predict.
But a wife who cooks his dinner? Who wears a smile, says his name sweetly, and acts like she's happy to be here? It might actually drive him crazy.
Because I’m pretty sure he’s like a vampire. Too much sunshine and he’ll spontaneously combust.
Inspired and ready to make plans, I push away from the counter and consider the steps I need to take next.
A dinner. A smile. Something sexy to wear.
The dinner is a problem because I can't cook.
Not that it really matters. The food isn't the point.
It’s the performance that counts.
I pick up my new phone and call Charles. He answers on the second ring.
"Mrs. Di Zaro."
"Charles. I need groceries."
He pauses, then says, "An unexpected development."
"Cannelloni tubes. Ricotta. Canned tomatoes. Basil. Garlic. An onion. Parmesan. And a bag of salad."
