I braced for it as I sat at the counter.
He grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and slowly poured it into my grandmother’s plants, circling the stems to make sure it was distributed evenly.
The control he had in the daylight was out of this world.
At night, though, we both knew he had none.
“So, our appointment to sign papers is in two hours.”
I rolled my eyes and took the fork he’d left me. Nourishment might help get me through this day.
As I took a bite, he reached above the refrigerator and grabbed the lighter. He lit a stick of my incense and then sat down next to me as if this was totally normal.
“So, I’m sorry about last night.” He breathed out.
My fork clattered onto the plate. “What?”
“I’m sending mixed signals.” His eyes were milk chocolate and molasses now. Sweet and accommodating Bastian was back.
“You’re telling me!”
He cleared his throat. “I should have given you more warning about the marriage ceremony today, also.”
“If we’re just going to the courthouse, it’ll be fine,” I grumbled, not quite sure how to react to the change in him.
“I can take you to the terminals today. I’ll show you my plans.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You fucked me last night, Bastian.”
He nodded. “I’m aware, Morina. It shouldn’t have happened. You need a clear head when you make decisions about these shares, and I’m not giving that to you.”
“Oh, God.” I rolled my eyes. So, we were back to business transactions and professional relations. “Sex isn’t going to muddle my brain all up, you idiot. I can fuck you and keep our business separate.”
He stared at me, then swore when his phone lit up.
“Is someone calling you right now? Do you have it on silent?”
He slid it back in his pocket. “Yeah, sorry.”
“You can answer your calls. I don’t care.” I shrugged. He was ever so present when he was with me and for what? We were just business associates.
“I do,” he countered. “You deserve my full attention when I’m here. And I’m serious about this conversation. We should right the ship and try to be friends through this transaction.”
“Okay.” I nodded. All of that made sense except that somehow my brain couldn’t get past him putting his businesses on hold for me by silencing his phone. Something didn’t quite compute and yet I couldn’t figure out what.
But Bastian sat there, alert and on point this morning, making complete sense while I was a jumbled mess. Someone had really slept much better than I had. He looked refreshed, cleaned up, and completely dedicated to what he was saying.
“I’ll go change after I eat this.” I dug into the crepes, not wanting to show that I was such a mess. I focused on the way the sugar melted in my mouth, the fluff of the thin pancake and how its taste blended perfectly with the strawberry jelly he’d folded in.
“Morina.”
I glanced his way when he sighed my name. His hand was fisted; his jaw flexed.
“Yes?” I stared at his dark eyes boring into me. Our chemistry clashed around the room. Did he feel the pull and the need like I did? Was it just a one way street?
I shot up with the half-eaten food still on my plate and went to the sink. He didn’t answer after saying my name, so I changed the subject. “I’m guessing someone will be outside those courtroom doors to take our picture today, correct?”
He stared at my plate. “You didn’t eat all your crepes.”
“Yes.” I dragged out the word. “I’m full.”
His brow furrowed. “You moaned like you loved it a second ago. Was something wrong with it?”
My cheeks heated. Sometimes the fact that I loved his cooking so much I got lost in the taste of it was straight up embarrassing. “It was fine.”
“Bring it here then and let me try it.”
“What?” I glanced at the food in my hand. Then set it on the counter. “No. That’s not… I’m not eating it because I’m trying to not appear bloated for cameras today.”
“You what?” He stood, his chair screeching behind him before he rounded the counter.
“They’ll put all our pictures in the tabloids and I don’t want to look like I ate–”
He picked up the fork and stabbed the rest of the crepe onto it while a string of Italian flew from his mouth. His other hand went to the nape of my neck. “Open, ragazza.”
“Bast–”
He pushed past his name with the fork and the food was in my mouth before I could protest. I didn’t. The taste was absolutely delightful as always. I grabbed his wrist and pushed it back to remove the fork though.
I shook my head at him as I chewed.
He watched my mouth the whole time and then pulled me close, his hand combing down my locks. “I want you this way. Full. Bright eyed and free. Don’t change anything. Not your clothes. Not your hair. Nothing. We go in twenty, huh?”
With that, he released me and disappeared to his room.
He left me speechless, my heart pitter pattering over and over again loud enough to drown out all my reservations about the day.
I flew back into my room and cut the thread of a bracelet of flattened stones. I pulled most off the string and then retied it just big enough to fit a man’s finger.
Sebastian Armanelli would wear my ring too. He might belong to his family as Bastian, the man who accommodated most, but Sebastian with his commands and his possessiveness was pulling me to him and like Grandma had said in her letter, I was making a quick decision to figure out where he’d take me.
The ceremony was fast, most likely because we both stood there with our hands folded in front of the judge, not willing to recite vows. None of those things mattered. We were crossing Ts and dotting I’s to make sure I’d get the shares so I could sell to him.
As we walked out of the courthouse, flashing lights bombarded us. Questions flew from every direction as a hoard of paparazzi descended upon us. Even if Bastian hadn’t cared, I was happy I’d changed into a flowy white beach dress.
Someone had tipped them off. Bastian pulled me close and pushed through the crowd and suddenly suits surrounded us, escorting us to the Rolls Royce. Bastian’s hand was on my back as he made sure I got in the car safely. Then he turned and actually smiled at the men and women photographing us.
“Morina Armanelli is beautiful, isn’t she?” He waited as they threw out more questions. His voice carried through the crowd. “She’s beautiful and she’s mine. Now and forever. Make sure you write the last part everywhere.” Then, he folded into the seat beside me.
The security got into another SUV. As our driver maneuvered the car away from the crowd, I breathed out.
“Jesus. That was all a bit over the top.” I turned to Bastian. “Especially you.”
Bastian didn’t respond. Instead, he told the driver to go to Tropical Oil.