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My last date tried to rope me into a seance to contact his dead mother so she could “meet me and give her approval.” Needless to say, I never saw him again.
Who needed therapy when you could punch your friend in the face every week?
“You gave me a black Amex, I used it,” Vivian said with an elegant shrug. “What can I say? I like flowers. And shoes.” Translation: You were an asshole before you left, and I took it out on your bank account.
“The house has been so pleasant without all the scowls and grunts.” “Here I thought you’d miss me.” I tsked. “I’m hurt.” “I would apologize, but catering to your feelings isn’t part of our arrangement. It’s just a business deal. Remember?” A reluctant smile touched my mouth. Touché.
Vivian’s laugh evoked a strange sensation in my chest. Heartburn? Investigate later.
“I told you to stop calling me that.” “Yes, you did.” I was going to call her mia cara every chance I got.
My jaw tightened when another silvery peal of laughter floated over from the bar. Vivian had been talking to Kai for the past seven minutes. Not just talking—she was smiling and laughing like he was an award-winning comedian when I knew for a fact he wasn’t that damn funny. Irritation pierced my chest when she leaned closer to show him her phone. He said something, and she laughed again. She’d never laughed that much with me, and I was her goddamned fiancé.
“You forget.” I pressed my fingers against her nape, forcing her to look up at me. “You’re my fiancée. Not Kai’s. Not anyone else’s. I don’t give a fuck how handsome they are or what type of accent they have. You’re mine, and no one…” I dipped my head, my lips brushing hers with each word. “Touches what’s mine.”
To crush my mouth to hers and smear her perfect lipstick so thoroughly no one would doubt for a fucking second who she belonged to.
She wasn’t my wife yet, but she was mine. No one threatened what was mine.
“How does he look at me?” Janis smiled. “Like he never wants to look away.”
Her words were sad, but her voice was so sweet I could listen to it forever.
“You don’t touch her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t even fucking think about her. If you do, I’ll break every fucking bone in your body until your own mother won’t recognize you. Understand?”
“I hate the idea of you touching anyone else, or anyone else touching you. I hate that other people can make you laugh in a way I can’t. I hate how I feel around you, like you’re the only person that can make me lose control when I. Don’t. Lose. Control.”
“No more scowling as your default expression. Your face is close to freezing that way, and I’d rather not wake up to the Grinch for the rest of my life.” “I’m much better looking than the Grinch,” he grumbled. “And if people stopped pissing me off, I wouldn’t scowl so much.”
“I told you last week, and I’ll tell you again. She’s my fiancée. If you step foot near her again, if you so much as breathe in her direction…” Pain lanced across his face when I squeezed his shoulder. “I will burn you, your house, and your entire fucking company to the ground. Understand?”
“You can’t see the stars in New York,” Dante said. “So I brought the stars to you.”
“Take your hands off my fiancée.”
“Touch Vivian again, and I’ll kill you.”
“Confession as in you forgot to book our horseback rides tomorrow, or confession as in you murdered someone and need my help burying the body?” “Why do you always default to the morbid?”
