Page 45 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
“Were you now?” I say acidly. “Sounds like fun.”
Lorenzo blinks at the tone of my voice. He glances over at Matteo, who’s probably flipping me off behind my back. He rises, following me over to the fridge. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“You can get me a gun,” I mutter under my breath. I grab a yogurt, remember I hate yogurt, throw it back, and grab a hunk of salami and a block of cheese. The fridge is filled with all kinds of stuff, but I want something I can eat in my room, tearing apart with my teeth.
I’ve got to figure out a way to ban Matteo from the house.
Without another word to either of them, I leave Matteo and Lorenzo in the kitchen and head to my bedroom. It isn’t until I throw open the door and flip the light switch that I remember it isn’t mine anymore.
Cornelia is sprawled in the middle of the bed, snoring like a chainsaw.
She has a nightlight shaped like a giraffe. She has a water bowl that appears to be real china, elevated on a silver stand beside the bed. She has a pink blanket with frolicking bunnies that covers the lower half of her huge black body.
Her name is painted in flowery fucking letters on the wall.
“Get out of my bed, dog!” I shout.
Waking with a snort, Cornelia jerks and scrambles upright. She sees me standing in the doorway, throws back her head, and howls in fright.
Drama queen.
I stand aside and point into the hallway. “Out!”
The dog launches herself from the bed. She promptly gets tangled in the sheets and falls to the floor. Frantically struggling, she kicks the stand with the water bowl, which topples over and smashes against the floor.
“Oh my God. This is a frickin’ circus.”
I stride over to the flailing mass of blankets and legs and grab a handful of fabric. I pull, and the dog is released like a rock from a slingshot. She blasts from the room in a blur of fur and tears off down the hallway, baying like a banshee.
Leaving the cheese and salami on the dresser where Cornelia’s wardrobe presumably resides, I stomp over to the bed and strip off the sheets. I wad them up and toss them into a corner. I sniff the mattress, certain it will reek of dog, but smell nothing. I don’t spot any suspicious stains, either. Satisfied, I get fresh sheets from the linen closet in the en suite bathroom and make the bed.
It isn’t until I’m finished that I realize I have company. Matteo’s leaning in the doorway, watching me with a smile.
“Look who it is. Count Egotistico. Here to give me another fake kiss?”
“If you’ll let me.”
His smile grows wider, the prick. I smile back violently.
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
With my chin held high, I go over to him, push him out of the doorway, and slam the door in his face.
The door instantly swings back open.
Shit. No lock.
“You know, hate and love aren’t so different, bella.”
He’s being philosophical now, pursing his pretty mouth and gazing at the ceiling, as if viewing the stars.
I could kill him.
“Why do you enjoy torturing me? Are you some kind of sadist?”
He ignores me, naturally, and continues his little Socratic speech. “They’re two sides of the same coin, really. Passion, obsession, sweaty palms, and a racing heart. Lost sleep.” He slides his gaze over to the cheese and salami on the dresser. “A poor appetite.”
“You want a poor appetite? I’ll give you a poor appetite. I’ll take that salami and wedge it so far down your throat you won’t be able to eat ever again.”
