That statement had been true about three glasses of wine ago.
Now? Now I was positively hammered.
I’d been holding up great the entire weekend, fucking Achilles like it was my job and I was vying for the employee-of-the-month bonus. I kept things light, casual, and toxic. I pushed my meltdown on the cliff into a drawer in my mind, where I also kept all the shopping site passwords I never remembered, pretending it never happened.
Normally, I abided by the one-drink rule to stay in control. But tonight called for liquid courage. I was trying to distance myself from what appeared to be the best date I’d ever had.
Was this a sick joke? Knowing Achilles, it was the only humor he was capable of.
On our last night in Naples, he’d decided to take me on a dinner date under the stars. The seaside restaurant offered outside seating, cozy ambiance, delicious pasta, and divine wine. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore cocooned me into relaxation, and I was loose-limbed from a chain of orgasms, a rigorous shopping spree, and hearty food.
After a weekend of showing me exactly what I was missing in the bedroom department, he was now determined to exhibit he was also capable of being a top-notch partner. A good fuck was a rare find. Good husband material? A mythical creature. Yet somehow, he turned out to be both.
The entire evening, he’d been attentive, soft-spoken, and in an agreeable mood. A total one-eighty from his surly, venomous self.
We bonded over neutral topics—food, vacation spots, our mutual hatred for the Red Sox.
Now he was just staring at me. Quietly. Contentedly. Like a husband watching his wife, in a way that was both warm and familiar.
He seemed too pleased. Too sweet.
I knew it was a mind game. A way to make me squirm. I just didn’t know his angle.
“So.” I broke the disarming quiet, drumming my fingernails along the side of my wineglass, making the crimson liquid swirl and dance inside it. “Let’s talk about your stalking tendencies.”
I clung to our shared loathing like a lifeline. Hate fucks were familiar territory. Heart-to-hearts…not so much. And I especially didn’t want to lower my hackles in front of someone who had every intention of kicking me out of his life tomorrow morning.
“I don’t have stalking tendencies,” Achilles said evenly. “I only stalk you. It’s not a tendency. You’re an anomaly.”
I ignored the heat spreading across my chest. Stalking was not a healthy form of flirting. Even I knew that. I crossed one leg over the other. “Whatever. How often do you check on me?”
“Physically or remotely?”
I choked on my wine mid-sip, coughing into a napkin. “How do you check on me remotely?”
“Through your chaperones.” He waited a heavy beat, studying me. “And through the camera I installed inside your apartment.”
“There’s a camera inside myapartment?”
“And a tracker on your phone, which allows me full access to it.” He produced a cigarette from his soft pack, puffing it into life and hiding behind a cloud of smoke. “Which reminds me. Can you please stop texting Hamish? It’s bad form to be doing that mere seconds after sucking someone else’s dick. You’re going to give me a complex.”
The delicious heat in my chest quickly morphed into an inferno of rage, spreading into my veins like poison. The anger wasn’t just directed at him but also at myself. I thought I’d been savvier than that. I had a strip of black tape on my laptop’s camera, a VPN, and made monthly checks of my apartment to ensure it wasn’t bugged.
Achilles read the embarrassment on my face and smirked. “You couldn’t have found it in a million years. I was precise and strategic about where I put the camera.”
“And where is that?”
“In the eye of the resurrection painting Lila gifted you for Christmas.” Achilles winked, finger-gunning me. “Jesus’s always watching you.”
I didn’t evenlikethat painting. I only hung it because I knew how much it meant to my sister-in-law.
“You’re going to hell.”
“Was headed there with or without you.”
“I should put a knife into your chest for that alone.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve done so much worse.” He exhaled sideways, taking a slow sip of his wine. His first and only glass. “To answer your question, I check on you several times a day. I like to know you’re safe. I like to know when you get home. And…”
