“There is a front door for that.” With men guarding it, and the perimeter of the house, but I leave that out and snatch back my glass.
“Well, look who’s in a mood. Bad day?” She leans her elbows on the counter and rests her chin on her hand, looking up at me.
She doesn’t sound heartbroken about that; instead, the smirk she gives me shows how much she would love for my day to be shit.
“No different from any other day, dealing with drop kicks and psychopaths.” I look her up and down slowly, and deliberately.
“And here I thought we had nothing in common. We need to talk.”
I take another glass from the cupboard and pour us both a drink. We do need to talk. I need her to quit making my life hard and just accept there’s no changing the arrangement. Alcohol might just be what’s needed to loosen her up, so we can break through that cement barrier that’s wrapped around her.
“I’m sure if you weren’t being a brat all the time, you would find we have a lot of things in common. Like not wanting to get married being one of them… or at least I assume it wasn’t your bright idea to marry a maniac,” I ask, watching her eyebrows raise in response.
On second thought, she’s that unpredictable and crazy, who knows what the story is? It’s time I find out how this all started. I slide her glass across the marble counter and stroll to the stool by her side, ready to get to know my fiancé.
11
Lilly
“Likenotwantingtoget married being one of them…or at least I assume it wasn’t your bright idea to marry a maniac. Actually?” He pauses, second guessing my sanity.
Can’t blame him, really. I spent eighteen months doing the exact same thing.
“Well, what do they say about people who assume.” I take the drink he offers me. “But you are completely correct. It’s not a bright idea to marry a maniac. In fact, it was a completely stupid, idiotic and dumb idea to agree to marry a maniac.”
I take another long drink, the strong alcohol warming my entire body and easing the nerves that were on the verge of exploding.
“Lesson learnt.” I can feel my cheeks flush, as I try and focus on the most important topic. “Now back to you never wanting to get married. Are you actually serious?”
He gives me a what do you think look. “Can you blame me? I never wanted a child either, but it seems I’ve gotten both in the span of forty-eight hours,”
I throw my head back and laugh, because that was actually funny. It breaks the tension and lowers the temperature between us. He sits, smiling back, watching me. This could actually work to my advantage, especially as I try to pitch my release.
“Well, lucky for you, we can solve all your problems right now. Since you never wanted to get married and procreate, which good for you, great choice: we should have a proper adult conversation about this situation. Like normal people.” I settle in my chair and turn toward him.
“That would make a nice change of pace because if I’m being honest, it’s been a long day. I just want a drink, sleep and a blow job. Not necessarily in that order.” He winks and walks to the fridge, opens the freezer section, and takes out a small, foil-wrapped tray.
“You can do whatever you want after we talk. Knock yourself out.” I shrug.
He can go fuck the whole of Sydney if he wants; I’m sure he probably already has. At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is for me to be as far away from Sergei as possible.
I don’t see his face because he bends over to set our dinner is in the microwave. And I must admit, the view is very, very nice. He really is drop dead gorgeous and from what my eyes are seeing, tight in all the right places.
He looks over his shoulder and catches me gawking at his spectacular butt, and a sly grin slides across his face. I blush and quickly avert my eyes and continue sipping my drink. He sets the timer on the microwave and grabs his glass, then sits down next to me, turning to face me.
“I’ll start but first, was that a firm no on the blow job.” He lifts his hand to stop me from talking, because my mouth was open ready to shoot him down. “I’m fully prepared to reciprocate. I’ll even go first.”
He looks at me with a smirk, but his eyes are serious. Warmth between my legs makes my entire body flush and I feel my nipples pucker at the thought of his sexy mouth doing that to me. Obviously, my body is onboard.
But lucky, my brain is in charge, and I answer with, “that’s a never to the blow job.”
“Worth a shot.” He shrugs as he relaxes into his seat. “So, why did you agree to marry him?”
I sigh at his question. How do I explain a series of dumb choices and a lifetime of dealing with my father in one sitting when it took my therapist months to understand?
“It’s a long story,” I say, downing another sip.
“Dinners in the oven. We got nowhere to be.”