Page 24 of Fatal Sloth

I glance back at her as she walks toward the bed, surprisingly still wearing my shirt and clasping her trembling hands together as she sits back down next to me.

“So, what do we do?”

My shoulders sag, and I exhale a frustrated sigh. I place my hand over both her clenched hands, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Now that we know everyone is watching, we need to play the part. And you having a separate room is out of the question.” Standing up and pulling her to her feet alongside me.

“W-What?” Mia's eyes go wide, mouth agape.

Using my thumb and forefinger, I gently lift her chin, meeting her gaze. "I understand it's our wedding night and all, but if you keep that mouth open, I might just take it as a personal invitation," I say, a cocky smirk playing on my lips. Despite my teasing, she remains rooted in her stance, not budging an inch.

“It was a joke, Mia. Women line up for a piece of me, so forcing the unwilling isn't exactly my style,” I say without remorse. “But we will sleep in the same bed.”

Note to self: new wife doesn't joke.

"Ew!" she squeals, her tone high-pitched like a child disgusted by something. "I'm not sleeping in your bed so that you can bring other girls back while I'm there. Or should I get in line with the rest of them?"

I should be offended by her comment, but I'm not going to lie. I'm a little turned on by her feisty side, so I decide to keep it going.

"Or you could just join in," I reply, giving her a cocky grin.

She is not amused.

“Not that I owe you any explanation, but I have never brought another woman home, well, not in this house.”

“I didn't m––,” she tries to explain.

“Save it. Don't make this weird or any worse than it has to be. I’ll have someone move your things tomorrow. Let's go.” I give her a cold glare before pulling her out of what is supposed to be her room, then drag her toward mine and kick the door shut as we enter.

15

Mia

What else could go wrong today?

As he pulls me into his room, I can feel the panic building within me like a relentless tide. With each step, I struggle to contain the rising panic, a lump forming in my throat that I try to swallow down with every ounce of willpower I possess.

It's as if he can sense the turmoil brewing within me because he turns towards me, his voice surprisingly gentle amidst the chaos. "Calm down," he says, his hand running through his disheveled hair. "As I said before, forcing a woman isn't my thing." His words offer a sliver of reassurance, but they do little to calm the unease gnawing on my insides. "This is for both of us," he continues, his tone firm yet oddly comforting. "So, we can play the part. When I'm home, I'll stick to my side of the bed, and you can stick to yours—it's big enough."

Reluctantly, I have to admit that he might have a point. The mere thought of my father discovering that I'm sleeping in a separate room sends a shiver down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. It's a chilling reminder of the precarious situation I find myself in, trapped in a web of lies and obligations that threaten to consume me whole.

Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly, attempting to calm the frantic pounding of my heart. Surveying the room, I am struck by the stark contrast between this luxurious space and the modest room I briefly occupied. If I thought my previous room was nice, it now seems downright drab in comparison to this.

His room is spacious, with the bed as its focal point. Adorned with crisp white linens and large, plush pillows, it invites relaxation and indulgence. While the decor is minimal, the room emanates a quiet elegance, blending simplicity with luxury in a way that feels effortlessly chic.

Floor-to-ceiling windows grace one wall, offering a captivating view outside, much like the room I hastily left. However, this room boasts an additional feature—a cozy sitting area nestled in one corner, complete with two inviting armchairs that beckon for moments of quiet reflection.

I enter the ensuite bathroom, and I'm greeted by marble countertops and opulent fixtures. A generously sized soaking tub catches my eye, promising moments of blissful relaxation. At the same time, a separate shower stands nearby, offering a refreshing embrace, ready to wash away the stresses of the day.

"Is it up to your standard, Tesoro?" he asks, his voice drawing me from my thoughts, reminding me of his proximity.

"Y-Yes," I stammer, turning towards him with a slight tremble in my voice. "Thank you," I mutter as he takes another step closer, his imposing figure towering over me. I can't tell if he's trying to intimidate me, but strangely, it sends a thrill through me. Maybe I'm twisted, or perhaps it's the rush of freedom from my father's control that's making me feel this way. Whatever it is, Sebastiano doesn't scare me.

Sure, he infuriated me with his behavior today. Still, the prospect of escaping my father's watchful gaze outweighs any annoyance I feel towards him for dragging me out of the wedding like a rag doll.

Honestly, I couldn't wait to leave, either. I didn't need to be manhandled, but lingering at a wedding that felt more like a charade held no appeal for me.

"Don't thank me. You're doing me a favor in return, so we're even. But we should clear a few things up front," he replies, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.

"You're right. Maybe a few ground rules will make it easier for both of us," I reply, meeting his gaze.

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