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He is not wrong. It’s been two weeks since we stayed in the sex club, and I’ve been staying in the guest room.

I think he’s waiting for me to initiate, truly giving me space. And our date nights end up in this awkward dance in the hallway by our bedrooms when Corm gives me a peck on my forehead, wishes me a good night, and leaves quickly.

Probably to take care of his raging erection. And every night, I hope I can just drag him into my bed or drop to my knees right there in the hall.

But something stops me. It’s like if we went back to being intimate, I would be exposed again. Vulnerable. Prone to get hurt.

I know I can still get hurt. I know abstinence is not going to prevent it. It makes no sense, and yet… it’s like my last line of defense.

But it’s getting harder every single night. And seeing him in that stupid tux, desire pools between my legs. There is no way to put it more delicately. I’m horny as a teenager.

“Am I succeeding?” I wipe a piece of lint from his lapel and keep my hands on his chest, the fabric soft under my palm.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“This dress is tight, but if we’re careful, I might drop to my knees for you in the car.”

He groans. “If you drop to your knees, this dress won’t survive it. Nothing about the things I would do to you could be described as careful.”

His gaze is dangerous. Dangerously tempting.

I swallow.

I lick my lips.

I’m pretty sure I stop breathing.

Fuck the dress. But the thought is erased as soon as he grabs my hand and drags me out.

“Oh,” is all I manage.

“Come on, Saar. I have a deal to close, and I’m in a hurry.”

“Apparently,” I grumble, disappointed.

He opens the door of his Escalade. “In a hurry to come back and fuck my wife.”

Corm makes that displeased sound he does when something doesn’t go his way. It’s somewhere between a sigh and a growl. It’s so distinctively his that despite its undertone, I find it sexy.

I guess living with a sex god and not taking advantage of it can drive a girl crazy.

“What’s wrong?” I put my hand on his thigh.

He puts his phone away. “They still can’t find him. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t have to say whoheis. Vito disappeared, and the authorities can’t find him.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. Frankly, I don’t really care. It’s not like he can return my money, or like finding him would lessen the damage.”

“The good news is that my people made quite some progress in disentangling your name from his debts.”

Corm has dedicated a lot of resources to making sure the debts, especially those from dangerous people, are not in my name. I don’t know what it’s costing him or how he does it, but I’m grateful I don’t have to deal with it.

It’s the only part of my financial past and present that I let him handle. I’m in charge of everything else. To Corm’s dismay, I forced Cal and Finn to give me a loan. Well, to their dismay as well.

All three of them would just hand me the money, which I guess may be perceived as chivalrous, but it wouldn’t allow me to learn how to take care of myself.

Cal was probably the only one who got it—Celeste’s influence, no doubt —and agreed to a market value interest on his loan.