Page 17 of The Unwanted Wife

"I assume you take your coffee as dark as your soul?"

He crosses his arms across his chest and glares at me.

“I take that as a yes.” I place a teabag in my cup and pour hot water over it. Then I slowly press down on the plunger before tipping the coffee from the cafetière into another cup. I use the espresso machine in the bakery but at home I prefer the simplicity of the French press. I add milk and sugar to my tea—prefer to keep the tea bag in so the brew is strong; blasphemy for a Brit, I know—and mix it. I walk over and hand his cup to him.

He takes a sip of the coffee and doesn’t wince; despite the fact it’s probably scalding. Of course, he’s used to the burning fires of hell where he normally lives, so it doesn’t affect him.

He’s back to staring at my mouth, and those embers in my lower belly flare to life again. I can’t be in his presence without feeling this pull toward him. He must sense some of my thoughts, for he raises his gaze to mine. Once more, the full impact of those uneven eyes overcomes me. The blue is not completely blue. Right now, it’s blue-grey, and the amber is almost golden. It’s hypnotizing, like the first time I looked into them and lost my breath and my mind emptied of thoughts. It reminded me of looking into the eyes of a storm, filled with rainclouds, heavy with the promise of the first downpour. Like staring into the heart of a forest fire… Dangerous, yet also, alluring, like—Stop it, right there.

I pivot and walk over to the couch, where I sit down. For a few seconds, I stare into my cup of tea. Not like I’ll find any answers there. His feet appear in my line of sight, but I ignore him. Maybe he’ll leave if I don’t talk to him?

Instead, he lowers his bulk onto the seat next to me. He’s not touching me, but he’s so huge, he takes up most of the remaining space. The hair on my forearms rise. My body reacts to his nearness with no confusion. It wants him. I… want him. Oh god, this is going to get so very complicated. I rub at my temple, where a familiar drumming makes itself known. That’s all I need, a migraine. I’ve had them since I hit puberty at thirteen. Normally, the headaches come at the onset of my period. But since I began taking care of Hugo, combined with scrambling to save my fledging business, the frequency has multiplied.

I hold up a finger. "Hold on, I need to take my medication."

I reach over to where I placed my handbag near the couch, pull out my medicine, shake out a pill, and swallow it down with my tea. I then look up to find him watching me with a frown.

"What's the medication for?"

8

Skylar

"Migraines. Nothing serious."

"Hmm." There’s concern in those mismatched eyes. "Have you seen a doctor for it?"

"Of course, I have. How do you think I got the prescription?" I huff.

"And what did he say?"

"That I need to take the medication at the onset of a migraine, so it has the most impact.”

His frown deepens. “How often do you get them?”

“Not often.”

He continues to stare at me, and it’s like he’s looking right into my soul. Damn, it’s difficult to lie when his mismatched gaze is watching me so closely, I’m sure he can follow my line of thinking. “I get them, maybe… once a month; more often, if I’m stressed out.”

“And are you stressed out now?”

“What do you think?”

His lips tighten. He’s not happy I answered his question with a question. Well, that's too bad. I'm not a pushover, and it’s best he realizes that.

He watches me closely, then nods as if coming to a decision. "I think, you can always back out of this arrangement.” He raises his shoulder.

I scoff. "So you keep saying, but you and I both know I need the money."

"There is one more reason I decided it had to be you," he offers.

I stiffen, then incline my head.

"You're Ben’s sister. If he were here, he’d want me to help you out."

"He knows I'm a businesswoman. I started this enterprise, knowing the risks."

"But I have the means to rescue your bakery." He takes another sip of his coffee, then, once again, fixes his gaze on me. "We can help each other, Starling."

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