She hasn’t mentioned the invitation yet though, so I bring it up for her, “You’ll be going into the city tomorrow.”
That gets her attention, “Excuse me?”
“You need a wedding dress.” I spin my glass before I pick it up and take a sip.
Her nose flares, “I’ll wear this.”
My eyes drop down her. I can only see her top half, but the robe has separated some, showing off the tan skin of her chest. I couldn’t see any straps or clothing peeking out which leads me to believe she’s nakedunder that thin piece of material.
“Exactly as it is?” I ask smoothly, “No panties and all?”
“Nope!” She stands abruptly, “Not doing this.”
She grabs the half bottle of wine and starts for the door.
“Sit down, Olivia.” I order, voice edged in that steel she witnessed back when we made this deal.
Her legs stop moving.
“Sit.” I say again.
With a grumble, she trudges back to the table, dropping down into the chair farthest away from me.
“Dennis will take you into the city at nine a.m. You have an appointment, my card is on file, pick whatever you want.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. When you return, we can discuss the schedule for Sunday.”
“Where are my things?” She asks, changing the subject.
“Where they belong.”
“Where?”
I get up from the table, having not eaten a thing. Needling her was too much fun for me to give her what she wants so easily, even if it is as menial as her belongings. This is the most entertainment I’ve had in months.
“Good night, kitten.”
“Malakai!” She screams after me, her bare feet slapping against the floor, “Malakai!”
I glance over my shoulder, watching her as she storms toward me, the bottom of her robe parting and swishing around her bare legs. Long, toned legs that could wrap around my waist while I bury –
“Hey!” She grabs my arm, nails sinking into the material of my suit. “I need my things.”
I glance at the hand still on my arm and as if remembering herself, she snatches her arm back and crosses them over her chest.
“Head into the room next to yours,” I tell her in a low tone, “They’re in the closet.”
“Why are they in there and not my bedroom?”
“Because that isn’t your bedroom. Goodnight Olivia.”
She doesn’t continue to fight me and allows me to walk off, heading for the drawing room. I can hear deep voices filtering out through the gap in the door, quiet laughter and glasses being clinked.
I push the door to the room open, finding Sebastian, my right-hand man, drinking from one of my crystal glasses, three other glasses on the table while a pile of poker chips sit in the center.
Bast looks up to me, a shit eating grin splitting his face. Fucker.
