Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
It became a competition, both of us set on leaving here as the victor. As he’s still on his feet, looking as fresh as a daisy, I guess that makes me the loser. My only solace is that I didn’t give in.
I don’t even have it in me to argue when he lowers my underskirts and skirt and picks me up in his arms. He carries me to the sofa before sitting down with me in his lap. The ice bucket stands in a puddle of water on the coffee table. Condensation has dripped down the sides and gathered around it. The image reminds me of wasted moments and lost time. For some reason, a deep black hole opens up inside me as a different kind of grief consumes me, the kind that comes with regret.
Taking a bottle of water from the table, he unscrews the cap and holds it to my lips. I drink because I’m thirsty. My ass hurts where it rests on his lap. I’m still amazed that I didn’t freak out when he took his belt to me. Maybe he cured me of that particular fear. Not having the energy to fight him, I allow him to feed me tidbits of food. He follows each bite up with a sip of water, telling me I need to keep hydrated.
Then he makes me lie on my stomach on the sofa and rubs arnica into my backside, reigniting the heat that burns like embers under my skin. When that’s done, he lifts me back into his lap and simply holds me, both of us still dressed in our wedding attire.
I must’ve fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes again the sun is high in the sky. I’m still cradled in Dante’s lap. He’s stroking my loose hair, which means he undid the bun. Indeed, the tiara and pins lie in front of him on the coffee table.
He smiles that sexy, disarming smile that exposes his dimple. “How are you doing?”
I sit up, scramble off his lap, and wipe the hair from my face. It feels as if I’ve been hit by a truck.
He gets to his feet and walks to the kitchen. “You’ll feel better after breakfast.”
I take him in. He’s removed the tie, waistcoat, and jacket, and he’s rolled up his sleeves. His hair falls in a sexy way around his face. His movements are lithe and self-confident. I’ve always loved how he never fumbles in anything he does.
While he goes through the fridge, I slip away and lock myself in the bathroom. As I can’t undo the buttons at the back of the dress myself, I have no choice but to rip them off, ruining the dress in the process. In a way, the act seems fitting.
I have a quick shower and find a robe behind the door that I pull on. When I get back to the kitchen, Dante is serving bacon and eggs onto two plates.
He puts the pan back on the stove and pulls out a chair for me at the table. “Sit.”
When my ass hits the seat, the lingering discomfort reminds me of what we’ve done. My cheeks heat, but I pretend not to be bothered.
“Eat up.” He takes a seat opposite me. “You need your strength.”
After last night? I’ll need more than a breakfast and the freshly squeezed orange juice he pushes my way to recover.
And then he drops the bomb. “We have an appointment with your brother in an hour.”
Chapter
Eighteen
Dante
* * *
Tatiana walks into Teszner Agglomerate like the queen she is with her head held high and her shoulders squared. She’s wearing the off-white dress and matching flats I’d left at the guesthouse for the occasion. Her only adornments are her wedding ring and the Rolex I put on her wrist, not that she needs any. Her long hair is curled down her back. Not a strand is out of place. Her make-up is light and natural, highlighting the softness of her face and the haunted look in those green eyes. But her features are composed. For anyone looking on, she’s the epitome of style and serenity.
She didn’t say a word on the way from the guesthouse, but she doesn’t have to speak for me to know she’s anxious.
Meaning to reassure her, I place a hand on the small of her back. “Everything will be fine.”
She turns her face my way. For once, she’s letting me see her and not hiding behind her anger or hatred. “Will it?”
She doesn’t believe me.
“You’re my wife. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Does it matter?”
“Does what matter?”
“If something happens to me. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
Not yet. And after I’ve dealt the blow to Teszner today, I have to confront her. Everything I’ve tried so far has failed, including reinventing the night I took her virginity. If I thought the memory of what we’d shared would soften her resistance, I was sadly mistaken.