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Me: Then why do you have so many women’s clothes?

Adonis: Never been a minimalist when it comes to you

Me: What does that mean?

Adonis: Whatever you want it to mean

Me: You’re not making sense

Adonis: Come downstairs. You can say whatever you want about me as long as you say it to my face.

Me: You got a humiliation kink or something?

I smirk at the dancing bubbles that appear immediately. Indigo would be proud of me for remembering that.

Adonis: When it comes to you? Maybe

Adonis: Come downstairs, Delilah. I want to hear your voice

Me: I wasn’t aware you liked it when I talked

Adonis: Delilah

I stare at my name and imagine his deep voice saying it, exasperated and gruff. And I can’t stand that goosebumps raise on my skin just from the thought.

Adonis: Did something happen while you were out today?

Me: No. I just don’t want to talk to you.

Adonis: I want to play something for you. Come here.

The next message I get is a picture of Titus laid out near the back leg of the grand piano and my mouth says, “Aww” without my permission.

Me: You’ve gotta stop using your dog to sway me.

Adonis: Is it working?

Me: …

Adonis: Please?

Me: I’m coming

Chapter 25

More Than Friends

DELILAH

“Something isoffabout that man.” Head angled on a slant, I study the charred remains of the rose bush I ignited last week and wrinkle my brow.

According to Ms. Agnes, she and the weekly landscaping staff are under strict orders not to touch it. Adonis wants it to stay as it is, burnt to a crisp. An eyesore in his otherwise prize-winning masterpiece of a backyard.

“Why you staring at it like you didn’t do it?” Ms. Agnes chirps, appearing beside me with a sweating jar of lemonade.

“Didn’t know he’d keep it like a souvenir,” I admit, facing her.

“Of course he did. That man is something else when it comes to you.” Ms. Agnes’ lips twist in a silent critique. “It’s about damn time.”