“You’re such a liar,” she accused me.
“I would never lie about this.”
When she finally stopped laughing, she asked, “What happened to them?”
“Then? Nothing. Now? I’m pretty sure Natasha is serving a life sentence for a crime she claimed she didn’t commit, and her friend overdosed on drugs.”
Her tone grew solemn. “Did she?”
“Did she what?”
“Did she commit the crime, Royal? Did her friend really die from an overdose?” She demanded answers.
“Truthfully?” I would give her the truth, but I preferred the glazed version.
“I always want the fucking truth.” She suddenly seemed angry.
“I might have helped stage the crime set up, but I promise, the overdose was before my time,” I admitted.
“I don’t get it,” she said after a long silence followed my admission. “How can you have an appealing personality, be attractive, and still be such a fucking monster?”
“You think I’m attractive?” I picked the most complimentary part of her statement and focused on it.
“I think you’re impossible.”
“That may be true.” I considered it for a second. “But, Bianca . . . I’m still a King.”
My statement—reminding her that although she had her freedom, I was still in charge of the situation—was met by the click of her phone and the dial tone in my ear.
CHAPTER 12
BIANCA
Two days went by, and I hadn’t heard a single word from Royal. I told myself I didn’t care, but the fact remained, he was my husband, and he hadn’t come home. Fuck, I didn’t want to be one of those girls. I didn’t want to be attached to an emotionally unstable and unavailable male, especially when it was a male I never wanted to begin with. But, he was funny and caring, even if it was in his own superior way, and somehow, he made it nearly impossible to at least not be curious.
I texted him with no response, and that pissed me off, especially when Troy assured me that he was well, just dealing with business. What type of business could possibly be more important than me? None as far as I was concerned.
It was Thursday and nearing my lunch hour when I texted Troy to find out where Royal was. He was reluctant to share that information, but my will was stronger than his, and ultimately, he caved. Which, was the exact reason I was now carrying a bag from Fernando’s, with what had to be the world’s best sandwiches, into a questionable looking building, during my lunch break.
I texted Natalie. Taking my “husband” lunch. If you don’t hear from me again, I was last located at that questionable building on Elm and Fifteenth Street.
My phone instantly chimed. Get it, girl. Make that slab of beef your main course.
I choked. Yeah, sorry girl . . . that wasn’t happening.
I pulled open the heavy door to the building and stepped inside. The hall was deserted, but through various doors, I could see people. I walked until I found room 7A and knocked. I was met by silence, so I knocked again before opening the door. The reception room was empty, but through the door on the right, I heard Royal’s voice, so I moved closer.
I stood in the doorway while a woman leaned over his desk, her breasts damn near spilling into his face, and I fumed. This whole time I had been worried, and here he was flirting with some bimbo who most definitely was not a real blonde. He said something I couldn’t quite make out, and she laughed, only to infuriate me more.
I knocked on the door frame, and both heads turned. The woman stood straight. “I’m sorry ma’am, our offices are closed until Monday. I’ve canceled all the appointments for today.”
“I don’t have an appointment.” I wasn’t aware I needed to make one, and my fucking husband just sat there silently, not saying a word.
“Oh. Well, if you want to take a seat by the reception desk, I’ll be with you shortly to schedule one.” I couldn’t believe I’d wasted my lunch hour on this.
I stepped closer, my eyes locked on Royal as I tossed the paper bag on his desk. “I’m fine, thank you.”
I turned on my heels, my blood nearly boiling from anger. “Bianca. Come back here.”
I ignored him and continued walking out the door, determined to get as far away from the bastard as possible. One-woman man, my fucking ass. I most definitely wouldn’t be believing a word he said in the future.
I got to the door, the one leading to the street, when a hand wrapped around my bicep, then pulled, slamming my back into a hard chest. “Are you jealous, Amore?”
I tried to pull away, but a strong arm fell to my waist and wrapped tightly, pinning me in place. “I’m not even jealous, I’m annoyed.”
His hand loosened on my waist as it reached for my hand. “Come back, you brought me lunch. Let’s eat.”
“I have to get back to work.” I lied, knowing I had called ahead and the sandwiches took no time to pick up.
He looked at his watch. “Trace said you left the parking lot ten minutes ago.”
“Is that the babysitter of the hour?” I questioned.
“I prefer guardians.” He tugged again. “Amore, let’s eat, sandwiches are my favorite.”
I grudgingly followed along. “You don’t have to lie just because I caught another woman’s breasts in your face.”
“You think I’m lying?” he asked as we entered again. His receptionist was now seated at the desk that was previously vacated. “Veronica. What’s my favorite food?”
Her brows scrunched together. “Sandwiches? Why? Did you change it?”
He buried his face in my neck for a second, taking a deep inhale before bringing his lips up to my ear. “See, I told you, Amore.”
I tried to hold back my shiver, but judging by the way his body silently shook with laughter, I’m guessing my attempt was unsuccessful. I hated it and loved it at the same time. I hated how much I wanted him while I despised him, but my damn body hadn’t seemed to get the memo, reacting every damn time.
His head turned away from my skin again. “Veronica, this is my wife, Bianca. Bianca, this is Trace’s wife”—his eyes sparkled knowingly—“Veronica.”
Well, now I felt dumb, but also inexplicably relieved. Veronica’s eyes grew wide. “So it is true. Why didn’t you take a few days off? I could have handled this place for a bit.”
He side-eyed me. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer a few weeks from now. Right now, we still need to take care of Paul.”
Her eyes looked down and watered. “Just let me know.”
He nodded, then squeezed my hand before pulling me into the office and closing the door. He dropped my hand and walked toward his desk to grab the bag of food, then brought it to a little bistro table in the corner of the office. “I eat in here a lot with Troy.”
“I can see that. Why was she about to cry?”
He played dumb. “Who?”
“Veronica. Don’t lie to me, Royal,” I demanded, my voice taking on a harsh tone as if I already knew his ways.
He groaned. “We lost a man.”
“Well? Find him.” I took the seat he had pulled out.
“Bianca. We lost a man.” He made dramatic eyes like he was trying to hint at something. When I didn’t seem to understand, he cursed under his breath. “Paul is dead.”
I pulled back in shock and unsure what I should say. I didn’t know Paul, but if Veronica was teary over him, I guess I could assume he was an okay guy. “I’m sorry.”
“It happens. There is always some sort of loss, either physical, emotional, or mental. It comes with the territory.” His words were said in a cold tone, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings.
“Is he why you didn’t come home?” Crap. I hadn’t meant to ask that. When I left my office, I planned to play it cool, friendly. Instead, I’d already worn the mask of jealousy, concern and desperation. I didn’t want to have any of those qualities when it came to Royal Russo, yet here I was, staring into his dark eyes and worrying how he truly was doing.
It had to be the piece of paper. Maybe it was some unwritten rule or curse, that the moment the wedding vows were said and the documents signed, that person became a part of you. Good or bad, you cared. Unwillingly, you cared. Despite all reasoning begging you not to, you cared.
“Does my wife miss me?” He reached into the bag, pulling out two identical sandwiches.
He unwrapped my sandwich and placed it in front of me before doing the same to his. “Miss is such a strong word.”
He took a bite and hummed with delight. “Fine, you may not have missed me, Mrs. Russo, but you definitely were curious about my absence. I’m calling that a win.”
I took a bite into my sandwich and closed my eyes in bliss. I loved Fernando’s so much. “Your mother seems nice.”
“Changing the subject?” he took another bite. “She likes you. This sandwich is amazing.”
I didn’t want to tell him that his mother might have casually mentioned his favorite sandwich combo, which then spurred this purchase. It was the only food I knew for sure that he ate. “I love Fernando’s.” He leveled me with a glare, and I added the word. “Sandwiches.”
“Why did you come, Bianca?” He always said my name, the word coming from his mouth like it held power.
“You won a bet, so I’m having lunch with you.” That was the simple version, the one that I was using as an excuse to mask the fact that I was concerned. Just a little bit. But, damn it! I actually enjoyed the banter with him. “Why do you say my name so much?”
He thought about it as he chewed slowly. “There is something so powerful in a name, is there not? Your name reminds me of purity, which is so opposite of the life I live. I love the way your name sounds as it leaves my lips. Rich, velvety, smooth.” He paused, making sure to look me in the eyes. “It makes me think of just how good you would taste.”
I had to fight the urge not to cross my legs and rub my thighs together at his crass words. Damn it, judging by the sparkle in his eyes, he knew he was affecting me. “How did you take something so complimentary, and turn it so . . . so . . .”
“Crude?” he offered.
“Yes. Something so crude, so fast,” I finished lamely.
He bit his lip, his eyes still sparkling. “Bianca, since the moment I met you, even when I thought—and still think—you’re the worst dentist in the world, I still thought about tasting you.”
He stood, taking the two steps from his side of the table to mine, hovering over me. I wanted to shrink down, cower away from the dominance that pulsed off him, but by pure stubbornness and a lack of a good exit, I sat up taller and pretended his closeness didn’t have my pulse pounding and my heart skipping.
“You wouldn’t be the first client interested.” I didn’t know why I was baiting him for a reaction, but I was curious to see what type I would get.
He looked down at my hand. “You need a ring.”
His body leaned down farther, his hands resting on the table and the back of my chair, “Do you think a ring will stop them from hitting on me, Royal?”
I said his name, the syllables coming out huskier than intended. His eyes darkened, his lips leaned close to mine. “No. But, at least if you had a ring, everyone would know that you were mine, and do you know what happens when someone fucks with something that’s mine, Amore?”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Why was having him this close, making me feel so damn heated? I struggled to keep my eyes open, my lids feeling like lead, pulling them closed. “You send them a fruit basket?”
He nipped my lip. “Wrong. They end up dead.”
I should’ve been scared. Terrified of the meaning his words held, but my mind went blank the second his lips touched mine, his large body blanketing mine as he delivered a searing kiss. If I was smart, I would’ve pulled away and stopped whatever misconception he had about this farce of a marriage. But, even knowing this was bad, he was bad, this whole situation was bad, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when his lips felt so good against my own and the hand snaking under my shirt so damn warm against my skin.
Instead, I embraced it. Only just this once. My fingers wrapped around the tie hanging down and pulled, forcing his body forward, inviting more contact against my own. My free hand found his thick dark hair, and laced my fingers through it, pulling it slightly to hear that satisfying groan he made deep in his throat. My body trembled, the ecstasy of his touch against my skin doing nothing to detour this kiss.
This was heaven. It had to be. My fingers released his tie, my palm finding his chest, traveling downward, rubbing against—he pulled away, and I opened my eyes. “I do believe, your lunch break is almost over, Amore. Would you like me to walk you out?”
CHAPTER 13
BIANCA
“I don’t know what happened, Natalie.” I paused to check both directions before pulling off into traffic. “One minute we were eating, the next minute Royal’s tongue was down my throat, and I was rubbing against him like a cat in heat.”
Instead of showing me support, she laughed at me. “Well, I mean. . . it has been a while for you, sweetie. Did you landscape?”
“Yes,” I grumbled. “I landscaped. For the record, it was for myself, not because I found myself suddenly hitched to Royal.”
Although, finding myself suddenly hitched to Royal was definitely an encouragement to go the extra mile in that department. It was one thing living alone and knowing no one was going to see me naked, but sharing a bed with a man with the possibility of him getting a peek was a massive difference. Not that I was about to encourage his viewings or anything, but the option was there.
“I bet. But, if the chance arises, you’re taking it, right?”
I heard her wrestling with a wrapper. “No, why would I?”
“Because he’s hot. Look, if you’re not going to fuck him, can I?” She bit into what sounded like chips, the sound being obnoxiously loud through the speaker of my phone, echoing in my car.
“You chew like a cow. And no! Last time I checked, you were engaged,” I pointed out, but even if she wasn’t engaged, I still wouldn’t let her touch him. He was mine, at least that’s what the paper we both signed said. We were partners, slightly dysfunctional partners, but partners nonetheless. Even though I knew she wasn’t serious, the thought of her touching him left my stomach sour. My sense of ownership left me with a feeling of bitterness at the thought of sharing what was so obviously mine.
“We have an arrangement. There is a list of people who, if you ever got a chance to have sex with, you could do it, and the significant other would be okay with it. It’s a common knowledge thing,” she clarified.
“And my husband was on your list?” I asked her, making the turn to go home.
“What concerns me is he isn’t on yours. It’s not like you live under a bubble. Everyone in town knows who Royal is, yet you walk around with blinders on. How is that even possible?”
I made a sound of indifference. “I prefer not to concern myself with the goings-on of the world around me; life is so much more peaceful that way.”
“You’re such a hermit.” She talked around a mouthful of food.
“And you're disgusting. Couldn’t you wait until I was off the phone to stuff your face?”
“Whatever.” She made sure to crunch extra loud. “I’ve got to go anyway, peace out, bitch.”
She hung up the phone, leaving me to drive in silence, my own thoughts taunting me. My memories of the kiss at lunch replayed in my head. My damn desire already awakening.
I went to bed alone and woke in the morning to the shower running and steam billowing through the door. Peter was lying on Royal’s pillow, and his side of the bed had indeed been slept in, signifying he had come home last night . . . which I guess I sort of requested inadvertently at lunch. It also meant that I sleep like the dead. It’s the sheets.
I reached over, rubbing Peter’s ears as the shower turned off. The door opened, and a new rush of steam flooded the room. Don’t peek, don’t peek, don’t peek. I
tried my hardest to not roll over and look for him, but, apparently, my body had a mind of its own.
He was standing in front of the sink, a white towel secured low on his hips as he typed out a message on his phone. Whatever he was typing was lengthy, and after what had to be close to a minute later, he said, “I can feel you watching me.”
I turned my head away. “I’m not even looking at you.”
“You were, too.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw he put down his phone and used a spare towel to wipe down the mirror.
“I was not! How would you know? You were looking down the whole time.” Without even turning away from the mirror, I saw his cheeks pull up in amusement. Crap. What I had just said registered in my mind a little too late.
“Not looking at all, right, Mrs. Russo?” He took out a shaver from a drawer and leaned over his sink.
I declined a reply, instead opting to change the subject. “I see you got to sleep with Peter, are you boys getting along okay?”
“Your bunny is a menace, and you know it.” Why was the sight of him shaving in only a towel so appealing?
No. Stop it. I gave myself a mental scowl and rolled over to my back, giving myself plenty of ceiling to stare at. “Peter is a sweet, innocent bunny. If anyone in this room were a menace, it would be you.”
He stopped, pointed his shaver at me, his face half shaved. Damn it, I was looking at him again. “That sweet, innocent bunny bit my toe.”
I made a dismissive gesture with my hand. “You were probably taking up his spot in bed.”
“His spot?” he stuttered. “A bunny doesn’t have a spot in my bed.”
“Maybe you should just find a new place to sleep.” Sorry, I wasn’t willing to move now that I knew a bed could be this amazing. I buried myself deeper into his sheets.
“I thought about it last night since your snoring damn near chased me away, but I decided to hold my ground. I won’t be beaten by the world’s worst dentist—or her pet. Get him a cage Bianca, or I will.”
Resisting Royal (The Repayment Series) Page 6
