Page 24 of Resisting Royal

He side-eyed me. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer a few weeks from now. Right now, we still need to take care of Paul.”

Her eyes looked down and watered. “Just let me know.”

He nodded, then squeezed my hand before pulling me into the office and closing the door. He dropped my hand and walked toward his desk to grab the bag of food, then brought it to a little bistro table in the corner of the office. “I eat in here a lot with Troy.”

“I can see that. Why was she about to cry?”

He played dumb. “Who?”

“Veronica. Don’t lie to me, Royal,” I demanded, my voice taking on a harsh tone as if I already knew his ways.

He groaned. “We lost a man.”

“Well? Find him.” I took the seat he had pulled out.

“Bianca. We lost a man.” He made dramatic eyes like he was trying to hint at something. When I didn’t seem to understand, he cursed under his breath. “Paul is dead.”

I pulled back in shock and unsure what I should say. I didn’t know Paul, but if Veronica was teary over him, I guess I could assume he was an okay guy. “I’m sorry.”

“It happens. There is always some sort of loss, either physical, emotional, or mental. It comes with the territory.” His words were said in a cold tone, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

“Is he why you didn’t come home?” Crap. I hadn’t meant to ask that. When I left my office, I planned to play it cool, friendly. Instead, I’d already worn the mask of jealousy, concern and desperation. I didn’t want to have any of those qualities when it came to Royal Russo, yet here I was, staring into his dark eyes and worrying how he truly was doing.

It had to be the piece of paper. Maybe it was some unwritten rule or curse, that the moment the wedding vows were said and the documents signed, that person became a part of you. Good or bad, you cared. Unwillingly, you cared. Despite all reasoning begging you not to, you cared.

“Does my wife miss me?” He reached into the bag, pulling out two identical sandwiches.

He unwrapped my sandwich and placed it in front of me before doing the same to his. “Miss is such a strong word.”

He took a bite and hummed with delight. “Fine, you may not have missed me, Mrs. Russo, but you definitely were curious about my absence. I’m calling that a win.”

I took a bite into my sandwich and closed my eyes in bliss. I loved Fernando’s so much. “Your mother seems nice.”

“Changing the subject?” he took another bite. “She likes you. This sandwich is amazing.”

I didn’t want to tell him that his mother might have casually mentioned his favorite sandwich combo, which then spurred this purchase. It was the only food I knew for sure that he ate. “I love Fernando’s.” He leveled me with a glare, and I added the word. “Sandwiches.”

“Why did you come, Bianca?” He always said my name, the word coming from his mouth like it held power.

“You won a bet, so I’m having lunch with you.” That was the simple version, the one that I was using as an excuse to mask the fact that I was concerned. Just a little bit. But, damn it! I actually enjoyed the banter with him. “Why do you say my name so much?”

He thought about it as he chewed slowly. “There is something so powerful in a name, is there not? Your name reminds me of purity, which is so opposite of the life I live. I love the way your name sounds as it leaves my lips. Rich, velvety, smooth.” He paused, making sure to look me in the eyes. “It makes me think of just how good you would taste.”

I had to fight the urge not to cross my legs and rub my thighs together at his crass words. Damn it, judging by the sparkle in his eyes, he knew he was affecting me. “How did you take something so complimentary, and turn it so . . . so . . .”

“Crude?” he offered.

“Yes. Something so crude, so fast,” I finished lamely.

He bit his lip, his eyes still sparkling. “Bianca, since the moment I met you, even when I thought—and still think—you’re the worst dentist in the world, I still thought about tasting you.”

He stood, taking the two steps from his side of the table to mine, hovering over me. I wanted to shrink down, cower away from the dominance that pulsed off him, but by pure stubbornness and a lack of a good exit, I sat up taller and pretended his closeness didn’t have my pulse pounding and my heart skipping.

“You wouldn’t be the first client interested.” I didn’t know why I was baiting him for a reaction, but I was curious to see what type I would get.

He looked down at my hand. “You need a ring.”

His body leaned down farther, his hands resting on the table and the back of my chair, “Do you think a ring will stop them from hitting on me, Royal?”

I said his name, the syllables coming out huskier than intended. His eyes darkened, his lips leaned close to mine. “No. But, at least if you had a ring, everyone would know that you were mine, and do you know what happens when someone fucks with something that’s mine, Amore?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Why was having him this close, making me feel so damn heated? I struggled to keep my eyes open, my lids feeling like lead, pulling them closed. “You send them a fruit basket?”

He nipped my lip. “Wrong. They end up dead.”

I should’ve been scared. Terrified of the meaning his words held, but my mind went blank the second his lips touched mine, his large body blanketing mine as he delivered a searing kiss. If I was smart, I would’ve pulled away and stopped whatever misconception he had about this farce of a marriage. But, even knowing this was bad, he was bad, this whole situation was bad, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when his lips felt so good against my own and the hand snaking under my shirt so damn warm against my skin.

Instead, I embraced it. Only just this once. My fingers wrapped around the tie hanging down and pulled, forcing his body forward, inviting more contact against my own. My free hand found his thick dark hair, and laced my fingers through it, pulling it slightly to hear that satisfying groan he made deep in his throat. My body trembled, the ecstasy of his touch against my skin doing nothing to detour this kiss.

This was heaven. It had to be. My fingers released his tie, my palm finding his chest, traveling downward, rubbing against—he pulled away, and I opened my eyes. “I do believe, your lunch break is almost over, Amore. Would you like me to walk you out?”

---