I shook my head clear of my own thoughts and climbed into bed next to him, careful not to let any of my body touch his.
I heard his breathing next to me, deep and even, letting me know that once again, he was unfazed by me. Laying next to him reminded me of that time long ago in this exact position.
Except he had been naked…
I closed my eyes tightly, trying not to think of the memory of him whispering those words to me. Begging me to touch him. Telling me he craved me. That I consumed every waking thought, and every sleepless dream. He had wanted me so much, and now he was laying next to me, not even slightly tempted.
He hadn’t so much as even attempted to kiss me since I had been back. Not since we’d signed the contract. And I knew that was more of a power move, rather than something he actually wanted to do.
Why do you want him to?
Did I want him to?
I had no idea. All I knew was that it bugged the fuck out of me that he no longer had an interest. Why did that sting? I should be glad!
I folded my pillow underneath me and resisted the urge to punch it.
“No one forced you into that contract, Dante. You’re lying in a bed of your own making,” I muttered.
And, of course, he didn’t care enough to answer.
Chapter 22
Dante
I heard her.
She might have muttered under her breath, but I heard her. And I also heard the scorn and venom in her hushed tone.
I ignored her, because what else was I supposed to do?
Was I supposed to tell her the truth, and let her know I regretted the contract? Was I supposed to let her know I was in way over my head, and I had no idea how I was supposed to bring her back home without blackmailing her?
The contract had been her idea, but it was true I hadn’t needed much convincing. It was perfect for me.
I had made the mistake of falling for a woman who was stubborn, strong, and fierce. I didn’t know what else to resort to other than blackmail and coercion.
How was I supposed to tell her I wanted her here? That I wantedherto want to be here. How was I supposed to convince her I had spent the past eighteen months doing everything I could to get over her, and failing miserably? That every time I had been with Vicky, all I could think about was her? That shehad set the bar, and everyone else fell so far short of it they could walk under it.
In truth, every breath she took without being my old lady was an insult.
She was mine, in every sense of the word. This was it for me.
But how was I supposed to tell her this, when every word she spat at me was laced with hate? Even without her words, I could see the way she looked at me. She couldn’t stand to have me near her. She avoided eye contact whenever I walked into the room.
Her eyes used to linger on me, and even though I knew she hated the fact that she couldn’t stop herself from looking, I loved it. And now she barely flicks her eyes my way.
After what I had done to her—not just today, but all of it. The boat, kidnapping her, all the drama and mess… I could hardly blame her. But I wanted the other Rachel back. I wanted her to be feisty. I wanted her anger. I wanted all of her.
Rachel was a world-class actor, and she would mask her way through this entire six months, because she had a goal in mind. She wanted to be rid of me, and I had presented her with the easiest way out.
Call me conceited, but I had honestly thought I could wear her down. Rachel had always been stubborn, but I had managed to pierce her armour and found some weaknesses to get through to her. Sex being a big one. But there were other ways we connected. And now she had closed all doors to me. There was no way through. I could already see that.
I knew I was going to lose her after this.
So how could I turn to her and say what I was thinking, when she would either accuse me of manipulating her feelings, or she would look at me with the same disdain she had shown me all day?
How could I tell her I regretted so much and would do anything to go back to how we were? That I loved her just asmuch now as I did then? I was well aware that half of the time, no one would ever equate my actions to love, but I was out of my depth. I didn’t know what to do. I was a desperate man, and I resorted to desperate measures.
