“And what makes you think you can tell me what to do, Rosalie?” I asked, folding my arms and giving her a pointed look.
She grinned. “Isn’t that one of the perks of marrying you?”
Rosalie was under the illusion she was in charge, but she was far from it.
“The only person who will ever be in charge of me is my wife. You may be wearing my ring, but the wedding papers are still missing your signature,” I reminded her.
Her smile faltered slightly, though she quickly masked it with an arched eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” I said, holding her stare, “and you’re welcome to change that whenever you see fit.”
“Oh, much as I’d love to tell you what to do, I prefer my freedom. Marrying you would be like having a ball and chain wrapped around my ankle.”
Her words were teasing, but I still felt the sting.
“That’s not a bad idea. It would keep you from sneaking around behind my back, wouldn’t it?”
“Sneaking around behind your back? I don’t sneak—I walk right in front of you.”
I chuckled at her audacity. “Should I be watching you more closely?”
Rosalie lifted herself off the stool and took a step closer, closing the distance between us. “You can watch all you want.”
“Watch all I want, huh?” I questioned, my voice dropping lower, matching her soft whisper. “What if I decide I want more than just to watch?”
“Well, that would depend on what you think you’re entitled to.”
The distance between us was practically nonexistent now, and I could feel the warmth of her breath as she spoke.
“Entitled? No,” I murmured. “But maybe ... what I’ve earned.”
“Earned? That’s a bold claim. What exactly do you think you’ve earned?”
“I think we both know the answer to that, Rosalie.”
“Hmm. Too bad those papers are still missing my signature, huh?”
She was testing me. Irritating me.Frustratingme—and she was doing it all on purpose too. She was feisty, and all that did was make my dick hard. I had earned her. I’d done nothing but prove to her I was a gentleman. I’d done nothing but prove to her my patience was unwavering, focused on her, and only her.
Much as I enjoyed the thrill of the chase, I was getting tired of waiting.
The front door swung open after Rosalie turned the handle. The alcohol in her system seemed to have worked its magic on the thirty-minute drive home. I wondered how much she’d had to drink.
She stumbled slightly, and I tightened my grip on her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. “I’ve got you,” I reassured her. With my other arm wrapped around her waist, I guided her through the doorway.
“Oh, please, Romano. I’m not drunk off one drink,” she protested, letting out a huff. The smell of gin clung to her.
One drink, my ass.
She attempted to pull away but swayed slightly. I steadied her again, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness.
As we moved into the living room, I redirected her toward the stairs. She stumbled in her ridiculously high heels on the edge of the rug, and I gripped her waist tighter, earning myself a glare.
“Think you can manage?” I asked.
She lifted her right foot onto the first step and took a confident step forward. “If you let me go now, I’ll fall.”
I laughed. “Well, I’d hate to see you hurt your pride.”
