I'd let down my guard enough to take off my socks today. That...has never happened before. Not when I’m in the dressing room of the gym, nor with any other woman. The socks stay on, always. I am not hiding the scars... It’s more that I don't want to answer any questions about them.
Have I become so relaxed in her presence that I had not only taken off my socks, but also had allowed her to wash me? A first. No one had been given that privilege...before her. I had begun to look forward to coming home to her— Home? Did I call this hotel suite—which is a transient place to stay, at best—home? Is it home because she is here? Why do I enjoy waking up with her coiled into my side? What is Gigi doing to me? Whatever it is, it has to stop.
The bathroom door opens, a cloud of steam wafts out, and from it, she steps forward into the room.
I draw in a breath.
She's naked.
Not that I hadn't seen her without clothes earlier. But the sheer impudence with which she glides forward—head high, spine straight, perky breasts thrust up, breasts that tremble with every step she takes—that's different. She hasn't shown that fighting spirit of hers over the last few weeks. Perhaps I've been too busy taking what she offers, I haven't challenged her recently, and damn, if I haven't missed the thrust and parry between us. She walks around the bed to her side.
I twist my lips. Step forward. "Stop," I growl.
She ignores me, pulls back the covers, no doubt preparing to slide in and fall asleep. And leave me tossing and turning next to her? No way.
"Do as I say, or I swear, you'll regret it," I stalk to her.
She turns her back on me... Big mistake. I reach her, and she stiffens, pulls her shoulders back. I swoop down to grab her around the waist and she swerves to the side. What the hell?
I angle toward her; she brushes past me. I pivot, turn to face her as she backs away.
I lower my voice to a hush, "You don't want to do this."
She pales, then tips up her chin, "I am doing this. I’m not playing your games anymore"
"You'll regret this." The pulse thuds at my temple.
She tosses her head, "So, what's new?"
I take a step forward.
She skitters back, "Afraid you'll lose the chase?"
My heartbeat ratchets up.
"Is the big bad billionaire worried that his wife will be able to outrun him?"
My vision tunnels. The hair on the nape of my neck prickles. I drum my fingers on my chest. "Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart, for when I catch you this time, I won't' show any mercy."
She throws back her head and laughs. She fucking laughs. "You're funny, Saint, you know that?" she wheezes. "I have news for you, asshole."
I growl.
"—Oh, you don’t deserve the title of alphahole yet. All you've done so far is threaten me and use your wealth and so-called power to keep me under your control. Well, let me tell you, that's not gonna work anymore.”
"Oh?" I bare my teeth.
She winces, then pulls herself up to her full height, "It's true. Anyone can be a bully... But to use your wealth to actually make a difference in the world? To use your power to help those less fortunate? To bare your heart and show your feelings? To make yourself vulnerable enough to be hurt? That's true strength."
I roll my shoulders. "You done?"
"No." Color suffuses her cheeks. She closes the distance between us, thrusts her finger into my chest. "I thought you were different, that behind that obnoxious persona is someone who—"
"Cares? Who feels? Who had fallen in love with you? Who would change his life for you? Who would reform for you and help you in whatever little plan you have going here?"
She pales.
"I have news for you, doll. Your cunt is no magic pussy, that one taste of it, and poof, I turn over a new leaf."
She swallows.
"You...you're hurting, Saint. That's why you are trying to hurt me."
I laugh, "What a crock." A bead of sweat slides down my back.
"You're afraid." She leans in and her scent envelops me.
My groin tightens; my gut churns.
"That's why you're lashing out at me. I understand, Saint. Let me help." She raises her hand toward my face, "You're—"
"Bored," I yawn, then step back. "Save your insights, my sweet fake wife, for I couldn't give a fuck about your thoughts."
A lone tear squeezes out of the corner of her eye.
A hot sensation stabs at my chest.
"Take a good look, sweetheart," I spread my arms, "cause I am not changing."
She searches my features with an intensity that borders on hate... Love? Nah! Not that. Never that. Everything between us has been a charade... Well, except that she'd been a virgin. Fuck, what does it mean that she came to me untouched? Sweat beads my palms. Nothing. It means nothing. Another maneuver in this scheme of hers to catch me off kilter. If she'd intended to get close to me... Well, she has succeeded. And it stops here. Now.
"Get out,"
