I can’t understand this man. One moment he’s a savage, tearing into anyone who so much as glances my way, and the next he’s acting like he’s the only one who knows how to be gentle with me. One minute he looks at me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted, and the next he smothers it under that cold “just doing my job” line. I’m losing my mind trying to figure out which version of him is real, or if I’m just stupid enough to want both.
I’m stuck in between, desperate enough to want the savage and the gentle parts of him, because I don’t know which one is the lie, or if the lie is thinking I can walk away from either.
But then I remember every jealous twist he’s dragged out of me not so long ago.
“You can just throw them away,” I grumble, turning my back on him before he can see how much it actually gets to me.
“Is there something wrong?”
“What the hell was that tonight?” I spit, unable to hold myself, spinning around to face him.
“Relax, little orchid,” he jeers, flashing that smug side smirk of his. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“I don’t mean about the grenade.”
“Then what?”
I rake a hand through my hair, my eyes landing on the ground. What am I supposed to say to him? That I felt possessive over a situation I have no claim over?
“Do you like women like her?” The words slip out before I can hold them.
“What?”
“It’s a simple question, Mitch,” I snap, my anger boiling over.
His brows furrow in obvious confusion. “… What?”
“I saw you back there.” I cross my arms, raising my chin defiantly. “It was the only time you smiled during the night.”
God, I am making a fool out of myself, I know, but this jealousy, this unfairness that I feel in my throat, is something I can’t overcome.
He lets out a soft, mocking chuckle, his eyes roaming all over the room but me.
Fottuto stronzo …Fucking asshole …
He’s mine. Mine! My bodyguard, my employee, my shadow. He doesn’t get to drift away from me, not even for a second. I should be the only thing in his head, the only thing pulling at his attention. I should be the center of his damn universe, the thought he wakes up with, the obsession he can’t shake.
He’s supposed to live for me.
Worry for me.
Breathe for me.
And the idea that his attention might drift, even for a moment, makes something vicious coil tight in my chest. I need him bound to me, claiming me as fiercely as I claim him.
Because if he isn’t circling around me, if he isn’t mine every second, I feel like I’m unraveling.
“Why the fuck won’t you answer me?”
“Why the fuck are you acting like a spoiled brat?” he hisses, his voice disturbingly calm as his dark eyes return to mine.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I bite out. “Did my existence ruin your horny fantasy where you’re a manwhore who’ll just drop his standards for anyone who sways their ass at you?”
He bursts into laughter. “You think I’m a manwhore?”
“Yes!” I hiss, eyes wide. “And stop laughing!”
He straightens his face, trying to suppress the snide grin he clearly didn’t mean to show.
