Valentina’s head turned instantly—sharp as a blade. Her entire posture shifted: shoulders tight, jaw set, eyes narrowing with restrained irritation.
“Could you please get out of my personal space?” she asked through clenched teeth. “I was here first.”
I leaned back against the cushion like I was relaxed, like my pulse wasn’t too fast.
“This is my house,” I said with a lazy shrug. “Any space in it belongs to me.”
“Oh, don’t start,” she muttered, exhaling in frustration. “We’ve been under the same roof less than a week and you’ve said that twenty times. The house, the couch, the air I breathe… it’s all yours, right?”
“Exactly,” I said, tapping the cushion between us. “Including this part.”
Her eyes narrowed further, and I almost smiled. She looked like she might lunge at me if I pushed one inch harder.
I wanted to see her try.
“By your brilliant logic,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “the couch is also half mine. We’re married. Or did you forget?”
I lifted one eyebrow, seizing the opening she’d handed me.
“Do you really want to go down that road?”
Suspicion tightened her mouth.
“What road?”
“The wife road,” I said smoothly. “Because wives”—I let the word sit—“have certain… obligations.”
She snorted, humorless.
“Go to hell, Enrico.”
“I’m just being logical,” I said. “You’re the one who insisted on mentioning our arrangement.”
“And I’m being patient by not kicking you out of here right now,” she shot back.
I propped my elbow on the back of the couch, giving her a cynical smile I knew would make her angrier.
Valentina’s patience snapped. She threw the blanket aside and stood, cheeks flushed with fury.
“You know what? If you won’t move, I will.”
“Be my guest,” I said, still seated, still provoking. “Go anywhere you like. The house is yours too. Half of it, at least.”
Her eyes cut into me.
I added softly, because I couldn’t help myself—
“Just don’t forget everything has a price.”
She stalked past me without looking at me, steps quick and tight.
But I saw what she tried to hide: the color climbing her throat, the way her breath sped up like her body was reacting to me in ways she refused to admit.
Her bedroom door shut a moment later—less violent than she wanted, but far louder than it should have been.
I stayed on the couch for a few minutes, the TV flickering in front of me, utterly uninterested in the movie.
Because the feeling inside me was—absurdly—good.
