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She curls up in the chair, tucking her feet under her like a sweet little kitty cat. She’s dressed in a simple white T-shirt and black lounge pants. She does not wear makeup, and her hair hangs loosely around her face.
She couldn’t be more breathtaking.
“What’s so bad about saying Carter was my boyfriend?” She’s taking the heat off Gian, protecting him by changing the subject.
I’m clever enough to see past her plan. I’m too mature to take the bait.
“I’d think he’d be brave enough to knock on your front door and show his face to your family. Maybe even take you out in the daylight and show you off like you deserve.” Okay, maybe I’m not as mature as I wish I were. That, or I’m regressing. “I think a real,” I use air quotes around the dastardly word, “BOYFRIEND wouldn’t ask you to leave your window unlocked.”
She looks away. “You don’t know anything about it.”
Unfortunately for her, I was a teenage boy a million years ago. I know how their minds work. And the way Carter treated her was not how you treat your girlfriend.
I lay the truth on her.
“Let me guess. He gives you a high five or a fist bump at school instead of a kiss. He calls you his bestie, not his girlfriend. And the only time he shows you affection is in the privacy of your bedroom.” I stare at her, the truth written all over those rosy cheeks. “Am I right?”
“So, he wasn’t my boyfriend, per se.”
“Whoever is worthy of being with you will show you off like the gem you are.”
“That’s nice of you to say…” My words of truth soften her for a moment. Then, stubborn pride wells in her, and she says, “Still, I don’t think you have too much room to talk bad about another man?—”
I stop her with a curt, “Boy. Carter is a boy. Not a man.”
“Okay, let me say, don’t talk bad about a boy or a man when you’re the one holding an eighteen-year-old girl hostage.” Untucking her legs from under her, she crosses her arms over her chest, ready for battle.
“You can leave at any time,” I say.
She scoffs a laugh. “Really? Just walk right out the door?”
While walking home tonight, I decided to come up here, tell her to pack, and drive her back home. Then I saw her beautiful face—makeup-free and looking the same as when I first saw her. All my determination to let her go dissipated with one look into her blue eyes.
I want her so badly.
She unfolds her arms. Tracing the seam of her sweatpants up the side of her thigh with her fingertip, she whispers, “If I leave, if I don’t give you what you want, you’ll hurt my family.”
Hurt them? Hell—Liam fed them Wagyu steaks. They weren’t even poisoned.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t hurt them. I would need to report the theft. Let’s see…a hundred thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money. It might be a felony charge. How much time behind bars do you think your mom would get?”
She doesn’t say anything.
I’m being childish, but I won’t let her go, so I continue, saying, “The Italian courts are cracking down on online theft right now.”
“Is that so?” She narrows her eyes at me. “Why do you need a wife so badly, anyway? You don’t seem like the marrying type.”
Her words make me bristle. “That’s my business.” I think of my dastardly meeting this morning. I stop myself from running my hand frustratedly through my hair again. “Though that plan might be on hold for the moment.”
Her eyes widen. She leans forward. “Are you saying the wedding is off?”
“I said,on hold.”
Eyeing me, she says, “On hold. As in I can go home?”
I stare at her beautiful face and full lips, both begging to be kissed by me. My voice is tight. “You’re staying put.”
Her blue eyes glitter, teasing almost. “But you said it yourself. The plan is on hold.”