Page 33 of Arranged Control

“You’re still here?”

“I know, what a treat.” He grins at me, raising up his mug. “Good coffee.”

“Seriously, Seamus, what is this? You can see that I’m safe. No reason to hang around. Don’t you have work or something?”

“You’re my work today.” He’s smirking, eyes sparkling. Clearly, the asshole enjoys riling me up.

I don’t give him the pleasure. I keep myself as calm as I can. “Then maybe we should discuss our future together.”

Nothing like logistics and relationship discussions to make a guy like Seamus run away.

“Great idea.” He leans back in his chair, putting one muscular arm behind his head. I swear he’s flexing. The bastard. “I want you to move in with me.”

I grimace and turn to the sink, pretending to focus on cleaning the wine glasses from last night. I knew this was going to happen, but I hoped I’d have more time to acclimate to him first.

But it seems that the murder at the wedding is accelerating things.

“Maybe we should slow down.”

“What happened to talking about our future?”

He’s having too much fun right now.

It really annoys me.

“Why move in together?” I try to pretend like this doesn’t bother me. “And if anything, you should move in here.”

“My place is secure.”

“And so is my apartment. I have a great location, two floors, a beautiful balcony?—”

“I’m located closer to my family’s power base.”

“Same goes for me. Plus, my place is just—” I gesture all around. “Why would I give it up?”

He leans forward, frowning now. I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. “I didn’t say you had to sell it. But we’re married, and married couples live together.”

“Is that some kind of law of the universe or something?” I dry the wine glasses and put them away. “We could have some kind of modern arrangement. You know, two days there, five days here.”

“Not interested.”

“You don’t get to unilaterally make that call.”

“Someone got murdered at our wedding. Remember that? Everyone seems to think it was a coincidence, but I have a bad feeling. We’re living together, princess.”

A cold chill runs down my spine. I turn away and look out the window.

Could he be right? Could that killing actually have had something to do with our wedding?

There’s no way to say for sure. He’s guessing as much as anyone else.

“Is this some kind of macho thing? You can’t stand the idea of your wife having her own life?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t give a damn what you do.”

“Then I’ll stay here.”

“You’ll move in with me.” He rises slowly. “Because the truth is you’re my responsibility.”