As difficult as my husband can be at times, there’s no test he can administer that I won’t pass, no damned road he can travel that I won’t follow, no trick he can pull that I won’t forgive. I love Mateo when it’s easy, and I love him more when it’s hard.
“Maybe he wants leverage,” Adrian suggests. “Maybe he’s using you to get it.”
It’s not unusual for Mateo to use me, but it’s ordinarily much sexier than this.
“Leverage? Like, trap Rafe into something so he can hold it over him?”
Adrian shrugs. “Maybe. Just spit-balling. Like I said, I don’t know.”
“Well, if that’s what he’s doing, he should clue me in so I know what’s going on.”
His eyebrows rise, faint amusement flitting across his face. “Not if he wants it to work. Rafe is perceptive and you don’t have a gift for deception.”
I scowl, wanting to argue, but he’s not wrong.
“Just stop asking questions for now. Let me see what I can find out, but don’t stress yourself out over it. Mateo is not testing your loyalty, that’s all I know.”
“So, what should I do about Rafe, then?”
He reaches forward and pats me lightly on the arm. “Just be yourself.”
—
“Make me a drink.”
We’re lounging poolside today. Adrian is busy with Mateo, so we aren’t allowed to leave the mansion. Rafe assured me he could keep me safe if we went out, but I declined. It’s still my job to play hostess, apparently, so we’re doing this instead.
At his command, I turn my head to face him, more than mildly unimpressed.
Raising his eyebrows innocently, he says, “What? I’m thirsty.”
Adjusting my sunglasses, I turn my face back toward the sun and close my eyes. “You know where the bar is.”
“I liked you better in Vegas. Do I need to kidnap you to get good service? I can. It seems like a headache, but it can be arranged.”
“If you kidnap me, my husband will kill you.”
“Eh, if he’s in a position to do so,” Rafe says, casually.
My eyes narrow and I turn my head to face him again. “He is.”
Shrugging innocently, Rafe says, “Won’t be for much longer if his bleeding heart wife keeps making him puss out and let people walk all over him.”
After delivering his dig and driving a spike of anxiety into my heart, Rafe pushes up off the chair to go get himself a drink.
At least, that’s my assumption. Until I feel him looming over me, casting a cool shadow. I dread the sight before I even open my eyes. Eyes clenched tightly, I wait for him to go away. He doesn’t.
Apparently he’s just going to stand here blocking my sun forever, so even though it makes my stomach feel funny, I open my eyes to look up at him.
God, he’s intimidating when he wants to be. Looking up at him like this, he’s all sinister shadows, muscular chest, and broad shoulders. His eyes gleam with challenge as they bore into me, his strong jaw set in stone. My brain understands he’s not my master, but his posture tells my brain it’s dead wrong.
I swallow.
This time, his words are more deliberate, his tone harder. This time, he promises unspoken consequences if I disobey the order he has no business issuing. “Mia, be a good girl and go make me a drink.”
Goddammit.
My stomach hollows out. It’s stressful to follow his orders at home, but it stresses me out even more not to. Despite knowing there’s no legitimate cost for disappointing this man I do not belong to, my body tells me I’m supposed to. It goes against my very nature to be difficult just for the sake of being difficult. I like to please people and he likes to be pleased—simple enough, in theory. Even though we’re not in Vegas, even though I’m no longer at anyone’s mercy, even though I have status here and could decline without consequence, I can’t help rising.
He doesn’t move as I step around him and walk to the bar. I steal glances in his direction as I grab a glass and pour him a drink. He does turn to look at me, but the asshole doesn’t move. It would be effortless to at least come collect this drink, but he doesn’t. When I finish pouring, he makes me bring it to him.
A slow smile claims his lips as the drink transfers from my hand into his. His eyes never leave mine. “See, now was that so hard?” His tone is as smooth as the liquor. Still holding my gaze, a glint of amusement in his brown eyes now that I’ve submitted to his will, he takes a drink.
My chest feels funny.
“You’re not supposed to boss me around here,” I inform him. My tone is milder than I intend. I want it to be fiery and in-charge, but it comes out sounding more like a request.