I moved towards her, like a predator eyeing its prey. She leaned back, and I leaned forward until she was practically lying down in the kitchen breakfast nook. Anger rushed through my veins. My fingertips sizzled with a need to touch her. My cock ached with a need to be buried between her legs again. And the puckering of her nipples through her blouse told me everything I needed to know.
But I wouldn't take her.
I wouldn't allow myself that kind of distraction while my entire family empire was on the line. “Alice is a scar from my past and nothing more. That’s all you’re going to know right now. I’m not leaving you for her because, right now, there’s nothing between us to leave.”
She swallowed hard. “You don’t mean that.”
I straightened up. “Now, if there isn’t anything else—”
“Actually, there is.”
I sighed. “What, Bonnie?”
She sat up. “We haven’t been adhering to our rules about leaving the house. Your rule, actually. We’ve both been breaking it.”
“Yes, we have.”
“From now on? We don’t. I want to go where you go, and you’ll go where I go. If you break the rules? I break them in kind because you can’t hold me to a set of standards you won’t keep for yourself. Got it?”
I paused. “Got it.”
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to order takeout. I don’t much feel like cooking any longer for a man who apparently doesn’t give a shit about me.”
“Bonnie, that’s not what I—”
She stood up. “I don’t know what you’re going to have for dinner, but I’m in the mood for pizza. In bed. Alone.”
And as she walked away from me, sauntering those luscious hips of hers, I cursed myself up and down underneath my breath. I had a growing hatred for when this woman walked away from me. I had a growing disdain for her being upset with me. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but somehow, Bonnie Moretti was rubbing off on me. For some reason, I cared about how she felt. About how she felt toward me.
My father’s sentiments on women and marriage continued echoing off the corners of my mind. Women are for business only. Marriage is for alliances only. Love has no place in a life like ours. But, as I watched Bonnie storm out of the kitchen, I had to fight the urge to rush after her and pull her into my arms.
Damn it.
I needed this shit to get wrapped up so I could punish her in all the wonderful, heated, lustful, glorious ways I dreamt about at night.
19
Bonnie
The hustle and bustle of the grocery store was almost foreign to me.
It wasn’t often I set foot into a place like this. A place that was so brazenly filled with people and ripe with risk. But, the delivery times for food were backed up for five solid hours, and we didn’t have anything to cook for lunch. So, with a grocery trip out to restock on some items came the fulfillment of the promise Israel and I made to each other.
And since I was going out, so was he.
Every once in awhile though, I stole a glance at him. I peeked over my shoulder at him and watched as he turned apples around in his hands. I saw him pick up an avocado and smell it before trying to thump it, like a melon. And it took all the energy in me to not laugh at him. Clearly, he wasn’t in his element. He had no idea how to check to make sure produce was fresh, nor did he know where the expiration dates on any of the meats were. If it hadn’t been slowing me down so badly in the store, it wouldn’t been endearing. But, the way Israel lagged behind gave me the sense that he knew trouble was about, which forced me to pay attention more to the people around me instead of the food.
And that meant spending longer in this place than I wanted.
I pointed to the cantaloupe. “Are you a melon fan?”
Israel studied the head of broccoli not far from me. “Not particularly.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
He wrinkled his nose. “When I was a child, yes.”
“Is it a texture thing, or…?”
He grinned. “If you want cantaloupe, get it for yourself. I just won’t eat any of it.”
“Well, I was thinking about making this ice cream Mom used to make for me when I was really little. I remember the recipe like it was yesterday, though.”
I felt him staring at me. “What kind of ice cream?”
I smiled, picking up the cantaloupe. “Cantarum cream is what she called it. She cooked down the cantaloupe with some coconut rum, then pureed the mixture, and used it in a basic ice cream recipe. My God, that stuff was outstanding.”
I felt his hand on the small of my back. “We’ll get the ingredients for it today, then.”
I smiled up at him. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
“Yes! Okay. You're going to love it. Seriously. I’m going to go find a few other things we’ll need and I’ll be back. Okay?”
“Just watch out. Keep an eye on your surroundings at all times.”
“Like you taught me, yes.”
He patted my back. “Good girl. You’ve got fifteen minutes before I come looking for you.”
I nodded. “I won’t take a smidge over ten. I promise.”
I placed the cantaloupe in the cart as he chuckled and I took off. I knew exactly what we needed, and the idea of sharing this small moment from my childhood with Israel tickled me with delight. It was one of the handful of memories I remembered about my parents. And for
