“Let me ask you something now,” he said.
“What?”
“How’d you get roped into this?”
I let the question linger there for a second. I considered giving him the long answer, starting with Alex getting murdered, but decided I didn’t want to talk about him, couldn’t talk about my dead best friend with this total stranger, so I settled on a part truth.
“My cousin made me.”
“Sounded like you made a deal.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, what was the deal?”
I shook my head. “You don’t need to know.”
He snorted. “I feel like I do, since we’re stuck together for a while.” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. I glanced at his chest again then looked down at my bare toes.
“It’s not going to affect you, okay? So don’t worry about it.”
He was quiet for a long moment and I felt him studying me. I itched to get the hell out of that kitchen—but I had no clue where I’d go. Maybe up into that room, but that wouldn’t keep him away, not if he wanted to keep talking.
I was trapped, and it was my own damn fault.
“Thing is, I don’t really trust you, and I’d feel a lot better if I knew why you were willing to marry a total stranger.”
I looked up at him and let out a surprised laugh. “You don’t trust me? Are you joking?”
He shrugged and let his hands drop. “Hate to admit it, but we didn’t start out on the right foot.”
My cheeks flushed crimson. “I shouldn’t have hit you, okay?”
“That’s not an apology.”
“No, it’s not.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So what is it? He got something on you? Or is this just old-fashioned loyalty?”
“None of the above.”
He sighed and picked up his coffee, studying me some more. I was suddenly very aware of the thin t-shirt and short cotton shorts I wore, showing off my legs.
“All right then, but sooner or later you’ll have to tell me.”
“I doubt it.” I looked over toward the refrigerator and desperately wanted to change the subject. “So why did you do it?”
“I wanted to.”
I looked back at him, frowning. “Excuse me?”
“I wanted to marry you.”
“You didn’t even know me.”
He waved a hand. “Not you, you, but the idea of you.”
“So loyalty then. Typical mafia machismo bullshit, right?”
A flash of anger flickered through his eyes and it surprised me. I don’t think I’d seen him angry before—not even when I slapped him across the face. He’d been annoyed and surprised, but not angry. When he pinned me against the wall, his knee between my legs, his muscular body against mine, I expected to see rage, and instead I saw resignation and regret. He was a confusing man and I felt like I was walking myself in circles trying to figure him out.
“It’s not like that.”
“How’s it like, then?”
“I owe Hedeon a lot, and when he asked for volunteers—”
“You volunteered for this?” I made a face.
“—when he asked for volunteers, I jumped at the chance to step up.”
I shook my head. “Sounds like blind loyalty to me.”
“Blind loyalty is baseless. This means something.”
“Whatever you say.”
He clenched his jaw. “So is this how it’s gonna be, then?”
“Seems like it.”
Silence descended. He drank his coffee and took a few bites of his cereal, which had to be soggy at that point. I stayed where I was trying to decide what I wanted to do, if maybe I could leave and stay at my apartment for a while, or maybe I could lock myself in the room upstairs and stare at TikTok until time slipped away—but those were only temporary solutions to what was a very, very long-term problem.
“You mentioned ground rules after the ceremony.” He looked up at me. “Maybe now’s a good time to make some.”
I felt myself relax a touch. Rules were good. Rules could make sure we didn’t do something stupid.
But rules were only important and worthwhile if they were followed.
“First rule is no touching.”
He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. What’s next?”
“I’m serious. We’re not sleeping together. We’re not kissing, not hugging, not holding hands. As far as you’re concerned, I’m your gay roommate. Can you deal with that?”
“Fine.” He waved a hand. “Next.”
“Boundaries. You don’t come into my room, I don’t go into yours.”
“Done.”
“We split everything. You buy groceries and I’ll pay you back. We’ll split bills.”
“Just like a roommate.”
“Exactly.” I put my coffee down and crossed my arms. I felt like I was putting on layer after layer of protective armor and trying to get away from him—but his lazy smile still drove me wild, despite it all. He turned to face me, leaning against the wall and sticking his legs out, ankles crossed, arms over his muscular chest.
“What else?”
“We live separate lives. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”
He shrugged. “That’ll work to a point.”