“Amara—”
She turns around, her back against the glass. “All I ask is that you don’t make me out to be a fool,” she says quietly. “Not now. Not again. As long as we’re in this sham of a fake marriage, you need to be on your best behavior, got it?”
My lips press together tightly, and I can feel my heart in my ass.
I never really knew what that felt like until now.
“Of course,” I nod.
She holds my gaze for a couple more seconds. “If you need someone to decorate, I can,” she says finally, looking around.
“That’s not something I want to put on you.”
“Why not?” she shrugs. “I like designing things. If I’m stuck in this hellhole, the least I could do to help you is make myself feel at home.”
My brows furrow, trying to unpack that insult.
“Well, yeah, okay. I’ll just give you my credit card and get whatever you want, alright?”
I’m not sure if I’ll ever see the money I sent Elsa, but I’ll just consider it penance.
She eyes my fingers as I whip out my wallet, scouring the small pockets until I find one of the credit cards I don’t use much. Her gaze turns suspicious as I hand it to her. “Why don’t you just send me money so that I know what the budget is?”
“There is no budget.” Her eyes whip to mine. “Spend anything you want. Coffee? You got it. Dinner with the girls? Go for it. We’re technically married. We’d be sharing finances if this were real.”
“But it’s not?—”
I lean against the counter. “I’m going to treat it like it is.”
She opens her mouth, but no words escape. Closing it, she looks down at her feet. Seconds pass. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I owe you far more than money, Sweetheart, and if it’s the place I can start cracking you, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”
The words are out before I can stop them, and judging from the way her eyes narrow, they aren’t being taken well.
“I don’t need your help, Cooper.”
“It’s nothelp.You said not to embarrass you. If I were yourhusband,” I take a step toward her. “Then I’d be taking care of you.”
She takes a step back, her back immediately hitting the window. “Like I said. This is a sham.”
“For us, maybe. But not to everyone else. So let menot embarrass you,Sweetheart.”
Her eyes are narrowed as she stares daggers at me from under her lashes, her ears turning that deep shade of red they always turned when she got angry.
Back then, it was cute.
Today, I’m unsure of whether I’ll have my manhood tomorrow. I’d be happy no matter what.
“Ground rules,” she says, shoving my chest. I stumble back before taking a careful seat on my couch. Amara’s gaze follows my movements, and for a split second, it almost seems like she loses her train of thought.
“Go on.”
“You lost the right to call me that. Don’t do it.” Her back straightens as her chin juts out. Her jaw ticks.
“Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”
Her jaw drops.
