Page 52 of The Diávolos: Part Two
“Where’s my room?” she asks.
I narrow my eyes at her. Is she implying that she’ll be sleeping in another room away from me?
Without giving her a verbal answer, I begin to walk toward the other side of the apartment, and she follows me.
Once we reach a door, I open it, moving to the side to let her in first.
Angelica steps inside and immediately turns to me. “This is your room.”
“It’soursnow.”
“I’m not sleeping here.”
“Why the fuck not? We’re going to be married,” I retort, angry that she’s pushing back at me.
Angelica sighs in exasperation. “We are not a real couple, Evan. I know we’re getting married, but it’s only on paper. I told you I wasn’t ready to makethis…” She gestures between us with her hand. “A thing again.” Her voice trails off at the end.
“Well, I’m telling you that this marriage—albeit fake in your mind—is real to me, so you’re sleeping in my room, Angelica. I’ll gladly tie you up to my bed every night if that’s what it takes,” I threaten.
Her eyes grow wide at my warning. I can see the pulse in her neck accelerating by the second. The idea of having her restrained to my bed frame is also affecting me, sending a signal down to my cock.
“I don’t care how long it takes for me to convince you that we’re right,angeloúdi mou,” I add, inching closer to her until myhard crotch is pressed against her body. “You’ll always be mine, Angelica.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Evander. We have an agreement—”
“An agreement that is null and void if you don’t adhere to my requests.”
“I should’ve never agreed to your proposal,” she murmurs, her expression closed off.
My fists ball at my side. “It may as well be written in stone, because there’s no way out of it now. You’re staying here, and that’s final.”
I storm off, feeling my pulse quicken, matching the rhythm of my racing thoughts. Waves of frustration crash over me, and the hurt fuels my hasty exit. Each step is both a tactful retreat and a declaration of my wounded pride.
The bedroom door slams shut behind me, sealing off the unresolved tension that lingered in the room, and I hope that I haven’t already fucked up with Angelica.
The next morning, I wake to Angelica sleeping peacefully next to me. After our little disagreement last night, she relented and accepted that she’d have to sleep in my bed if she wants this arrangement to work. The distance between us feels like an insurmountable mountain. The blanket wedged between us is a cruel reminder of the emotional gap that separates us. My desire to reach out and touch her is overwhelming, but an invisible force holds me back.
The warmth emanating from Angelica’s body is a tantalizing tease, and my fingers itch to trace the contours of her skin.
The ache in my chest grows, and I need to get rid of it. It’s still early, but not enough for me to go on my usual run around Schuylkill River. It’s been so long since I’ve jogged that path. I’m excited to get back into that routine soon.
I inch myself off the bed, leaving my sweet angel tangled in the sheets, and take a quick shower to start my day.
Given all the drama that’s been happening while I’ve been away, I’m going to meet with Dion at Xander’s family restaurant for lunch to talk through some damage control and our next steps.
A while later, I’m sitting in our usual spot at the back with Dion. Xan comes out of the kitchen with a tray of food.
“Bless your heart, Xan,” Dion says, practically drooling.
Xander chuckles. “I told myyayáyou were coming today, and she whipped this up just for you.”
Dion rubs his hands together like a fucking fly.
“You’re such a pest,” I shoot, but Dion just laughs as he digs into the meal.
It’s been over a year since Xander put himself in the line of fire to shield me from Jurian’s bullets and he looks as good as new. You’d never tell that he was punctured like a pin cushion.
He sits next to me, and I pat him on the shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
