This will be the first time she’s seen me since she left me at the dining room table and went off with Vince. I wonder if she’s dreading the meeting that I so look forward to.
When she appears at my door, I feel warmer. Some of the tension the last few days have built up within me dissipates. I’ve missed her. My gaze roams over her body, the girly red dress she selected for dinner tonight. She’s tense, probably worried how it will be to see me again. Morelli men are not famously good at accepting rejection and hers certainly stung, but seeing her now only makes me happy.
Briefly, I reconsider my plan to get her out of my house. Do I really want to move her in with Vince? I could just keep her here.
I feel myself obsessing, though. If I keep her under my roof, I’m going to steal her back from him. I won’t be able to help myself. I want her too much, and even though she chose him, I still think she chose wrong. He doesn’t appreciate all that Mia has to offer. He has absolutely no idea what to do with her.
She’s young, though. People make mistakes when they’re young.
I can’t help reminding Mia of the pull I have on her when she’s in my study. She tries to step out of line now that she’s back with Vince, but I swiftly remind her of her place.
I tell her about the poker game I’m hosting tomorrow night. I tell her she’s going to my cigar girl.
I offer her a chance to keep it secret from Vince, but she declines. Another bad choice. I have every intention of fucking her tomorrow night and it would benefit her relationship to keep that secret.
She tries for honesty, though. It’s the wrong call, but I don’t bother telling her so.
By the time she leaves, I swear I sense relief in her. Maybe she expected me to be like Vince, petty and punishing. Even Adrian convinced himself I was punishing her with the test.
She passed, though. Mia didn’t talk, even when we gave her every reason to.
They come to dinner afterward, the first night since Sunday. Vince’s face is still fucked up. It makes me happy to look at my busted knuckles and know they’re responsible.
A little less happy when I think about my own scratches. While Elise serves the salads, I run a hand along my neck like I’m itching it, but really I just draw Mia’s attention there. Her eyes widen at the sight of the marks she left on my flesh, then she darts a look at Vince to make sure he didn’t notice. Finally, her gaze falls to her plate and doesn’t come back up until it’s empty and someone comes to clear it away.
At the end of the meal she leaves the dining room with Vince, and I’m alone again.
The poker game is the most enjoyable one I’ve been to in a while. Of course, it could be because Mia is here. It doesn’t hurt at all that I dressed her up like a good little slut, and every time she moves, I catch a tempting glimpse of ass or cleavage, something to remind me of her naked body and get me hard.
It’s torture, but the good kind.
The guys don’t know she’s anything more than an ordinary cigar girl so they’re assholes, but they cause her to turn to me for help.
It’s a good fucking night.
Then Conroy and Hernandez show up and it becomes a great fucking night.
Mia comes to me. She tells me about the threat.
She passes her test with flying fucking colors.
She makes me happy.
I can’t keep my hands off her, but she doesn’t want me to. She tells herself she does, but she’s lying. Her eyes tell me the truth. Her hand on my cock tells me the truth.
Finally, fucking finally, I get to fuck Mia again. She’s present, past orgasm denial, and perhaps most importantly, not broken.
I might be, though. I no more than stop fucking this girl who isn’t mine and I already want her again. She asks what happens if she’s pregnant, and I hope to God she is. If I got her pregnant, I can take her back. Whatever it takes to get Mia back in my bed, I’m game.
I poked holes in the condom I brought with me tonight. A woman’s trick, but I wanted to try one more time. One more chance to trap her little ass.
Hopefully it works, and all my noble sacrifices will be for nothing. It’s not often I hope I’m wasting my time, but if it puts Mia back in my bed, the effort isn’t wasted.
—
I think I hate my bedroom now.
I think I hate my whole house.
I think maybe I hate everything.