I walk down the stairs in my bathrobe and tie the knot around my waist well enough so he can’t wriggle his fingers inside while we talk. A part of me tells me to turn around and go back—to stop this before it goes too far—but I can’t let this go.
When I walk into the dining area, Easton’s already sitting at the head of the table, reading a newspaper while drinking a cup of coffee as if everything is fine and dandy. He doesn’t even acknowledge me as I step closer and place my hand on the table, sliding it all along the edge as I walk to the other end and sit down there, staring at him. He doesn’t budge.
I’m momentarily distracted by the fact that my favorite magazine, QT, is lying right in front of me. I almost grab it, but then stop myself before I do. I can’t give in to temptations, however small. Besides, it’s awkward that he has the same magazine I always have at my home. Does he know what I like? Or is he going to randomly place a new magazine in front of me every day until I give in, so he learns what I like?
When the waiter comes in with our food, Easton looks up from his paper, and says, “Great. Smells amazing.” He clears his throat and closes the newspaper, folding it neatly before adding, “Could you pour another cup? It seems we have a guest.”
“Of course,” the waiter says, then leaves in a hurry.
I cock my head, still attempting to get his attention, but he’s still slurping his coffee and checking his watch like no other. Of course, he’s carefully but obviously avoiding me. Who wouldn’t after what he did last night?
But one way or another … we’re going to talk.
Easton
She’s been here for only a couple of minutes, and already it feels as though everything’s gone up in flames. As if her presence alone can suck the water out of the plants and her gaze can set the tablecloth on fire. She’s looking at me, but I’m ignoring her. On purpose, of course.
I enjoy the heat coming at me from across the table. I don’t need to look at her to know she’s fuming. She’s completely obsessed about last night. Who wouldn’t be when this arrogant but handsome billionaire wants to get his hands all over you and touch you in places you didn’t even know existed?
I don’t think she was prepared for what she’d feel when I came close, and now she doesn’t know how to handle it, so she wants to blame me. But I won’t allow it.
No, I’ll let her steam in her own pile a little longer. I can tell she’s losing it by not speaking up. If she talks now, that means she’ll admit I’m still present in her every waking thought, and of course, she doesn’t want to do that.
I’m guessing she also doesn’t want me to have the satisfaction of winning, but there’s one thing she doesn’t know about me … I always win, and quite frankly, I already won the world’s best prize the moment she became my wife.
“Good morning to you,” I say, adding a smile to be kind.
She folds her arms and cocks her head at me in defiance. “Oh, now you talk?”
“I hadn’t noticed you were here.” That’s a lie, but I love the rage that bursts out of her mouth whenever I annoy her. It excites me.
“Stop it,” she hisses.
I knew she couldn’t help it. She hates it when people ignore her. It’s what everyone, including her own family, has been doing to her all her life. The only difference is that they never noticed they were doing it … but I do. But she needs to learn to appreciate my attention before I’m willing to give it to her.
I start cutting up my toast, bacon, and eggs and take a bite, savoring the taste.
“So you’re just going to keep ignoring me?” she says, licking her lips as I swallow.
“I’m not doing anything except eating. You should too if you don’t want it to get cold,” I reply.
“You were in my bed and kissed me.”
Ah, there it is. The magical words that have been resting on her tongue since the moment she stepped into the dining room.
“Yes, so?” She’s stating the obvious here.
She rubs her lips together. “So you’re not even going to say anything about it?”
“What’s there to say?” I raise a brow.
“Are you going to pretend nothing happened?”
“I never said that,” I reply. “I’m not denying anything, and I won’t even try.”
“So you don’t care that you lay down beside me and touched me?”
“That’s what husbands and wives usually do, yes,” I answer.
Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say a word, so I continue eating my breakfast.