“She doesn’t exist in my system,” I say flatly.
“Oh,” Bella says again. “Right. I… may have just triggered a background check, didn’t I?”
“She’ll be lucky if it stops there.”
“Wow. I just wanted to find the room with the best view.”
“You found the one with the worst idea.”
She shrugs, biting back a grin. “Well. Notworst.You do have great lighting. Verymurder cave-chic.”
I shut the door behind me.
“So, let me get this straight,” I say. “You trespass into the one room in this entire house that no one touches because a maid I didn’t hire told you to?”
Bella lifts her chin. “To be fair, I only believed her because she offered me lavender tea and seemed emotionally stable.”
“She fed you lavender tea and sent you to my bedroom.”
“Isaidshe was emotionally stable, not smart.”
I step closer until she has to tilt her head slightly to keep eye contact.
“You have a habit,” I murmur, “of crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed.”
She folds her arms. “And you have a habit of thinking every room is a kingdom that needs your permission to breathe in.”
I smirk. “This one is.”
“Oh, I noticed,” she mutters. “It has a built-in gun closet and all the ambient warmth of a Bond villain’s funeral.”
She shifts slightly, chin tilted, ready to throw another sarcastic grenade— But then her bathrobe slips.
Just slightly.
Just enough to slide down one bare shoulder, revealing damp skin still kissed by steam, a freckle I hadn’t seen before, and the curve of her collarbone like a fucking invitation.
Her hair is still wet. Loose. Dripping.
And for one brutal second, I forget every reason I told myself this wasn’t that kind of marriage.
Because she looks too comfortable in this room. Too bare. Too goddamn beautiful.
The robe slides lower.
I move before I can stop myself—reaching out and grabbing the soft fabric near her shoulder, pulling it gently but firmly back into place. My fingers brush her skin as I adjust it. She stills. Breath held. Lips parted just enough to wreck me.
Her eyes flicker up.
But she’s not looking at my face.
She’s looking atme.
My chest. My stomach. The towel slung dangerously low around my hips.
She catches herself too late.
Color rushes to her cheeks like a sunburn.
