And he didn’t budge.
He is like a fucking rock.
I blink fast. “Sorry, Sir.”
“Get yourself changed,” he says, voice warm but somehow immovable. There’s a finality in it that demands compliance. He flicks his gaze towards the ottoman where my denim skirt and pink shirt are slung in two puddles, exactly as I’d peeled them off and thrown them. For a second, I see the urge in him to stride over, fold them into military perfection, but he clamps it down and keeps his attention on me.
I tease, “You want to fold them, don’t you?”
The very edge of his mouth ticks into a half-smile. “I want to order Jasmine to fold them.”
“I’m the mess that most needs tidying, Sir.”
“I wouldn’t tidy a single piece of you.”
I pout. “But?—”
He lifts a finger, and the interruption dies on my tongue. “No buts.” His gaze darkens, cutting a line of heated intent across my face. “Not an outburst, not a misguided decision, not your hope, not your eccentric behaviour, not even your moments of vulnerability. I desire no change. Understand? Let me see these lips say, ‘I understand, Sir.’”
My heart balloons. “I understand, Sir.”
“Go get changed. I will see you in no more than an hour. I assure you.” He thumbs my lower lip. “I very much need you on your knees, and I don’t wish to wait long.”
I don’t want him to go.
The lights overhead glare down, creating a shadow on the lower half of his face, rendering him both beautiful and more formidable. It’s never wise to challenge him when he’s serious,but I still want to. There’s some stupid, shy part of me that knows I am the exception—the rule-breaker who gets away with everything. I could drop to my knees here. Could reach out and grab the beautiful bulge between his thick thighs, stroke him, until he is so overcome with longing or concern that all of his priorities rearrange, and I become the only thing he can see. But I know that to be the right woman for him, I need to understand that he is a businessman.
So instead of being eccentric for once, I don’t do that. He grants me a small, almost paternal smile. “Despite how this happened, little deer, I am very proud of the way you stood up for yourself.”
“Jasmine stood up for me,” I mumble.
He tucks a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear. “You didn’t freeze. You didn’t shrink. Now do as you’re told. Wait for me at home.”
I want to say: I have waited at home my whole life, rationing attention like peanut butter and two-minute noodles. He knows this, so I just nod.
He’s not asking anyway.
He’s telling.
Which is what I like.
“I understand, Sir.”
He smiles, knowing. “Thirty minutes, little deer. Is that better? I will hurry home to my beautiful bride.”
I smile. “Se.”
“Have your pretty body ready for me, sweet girl.” He drops his hands from my face and walks towards the door, moving with that silent, predatory grace that makes people step aside for him even before they notice who he is.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
fawn
The threeCosa Nostravehicles join us on the road, dotted around the same line of traffic. Jasmine is in one of the other vehicles as they’re taking her to a specific store to get some truffle for Maggie, who wants to cook beef, mushroom, arugula, and truffle pizza for dinner.
Sitting in the blacked-out SUV with my twins, I try not to laugh at the calamity. Our favourite snacks—fruit gummies, juice boxes, and cookies—are spilled across the smooth leather.
In the front seat, HJ is driving, eyes always half on the road, half on the rear-view mirror, but I’m too busy intercepting Luca as he tries to steal Ash’s cookies. I smile at the gentle tug-of-war—chubby hands, heavy heads, like sumo-wrestlers in baby seats trying to claim what is rightfully theirs. That cookie is the most important thing in the world to them right now. Their entire reality revolves around it.
