Page 55 of Resisting Royal

CHAPTER 27

BIANCA

As promised, Royal was up with the sun, bags packed, ready to get on the road. He sat on the bed, arms crossed, staring at me impatiently. “What is taking you so long, woman?” He looked at his watch dramatically. “We should have been on the road hours ago.”

I grunted as I finished applying eyeliner. “It’s seven in the morning. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“I’ll buy you some damn coffee. Hurry. Up.” He punctuated his words with more strength behind them than I preferred him to use.

I dropped the liner onto the counter and turned toward him, crossing my arms spitefully. “That right there is why you couldn’t get hitched organically.”

Both his eyebrows rose in unison. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Do you think talking to me like you can order me around and I’ll just obey is going to get you far? Because I don’t feel like obeying orders.”

His whole body flopped back onto the bed with a curse. “I see why people beat their wives.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Did you seriously just say that?”

His head lifted just enough off the blanket to make eye contact with me as he tapped his watch. “Time Bianca. Please. I’m begging you.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” I held my body stubbornly, refusing to budge in both stance and attitude.

He heaved himself off the bed dramatically. “I said it. I don’t even fucking regret it either.” His heavy shoes clunked with each step he took toward me, and I had to swallow hard. “A little whip has never hurt anyone.” I glared, and he caved. “You know I would never touch a hair on your head out of anger.”

He reached behind me, tossing whatever he could grab into my makeup bags. I swirled around, grabbing his hands to stop him, having a brief moment of struggle before I finally screamed at him to stop. He froze, his head tilted in a way that reminded me of a puppy until he spoke. “What?”

“You can’t just throw that stuff in there like that. It’s expensive.”

He picked up another handful and tossed it in. “So? I’m rich.”

“Well, I’m most certainly not. I’m just now starting to build back the savings my father borrowed, and I can’t afford to be wasteful.” I took his hand in mine, prying his fingers away from the brush his big fist was crumbling the bristles off.

“You don’t need savings, Bianca. What’s mine is yours,” he pointed out, and it was sweet that he actually believed it. This was a contract, not an emotional commitment, and both of us needed to start thinking of it that way.

“I prefer to stay independent in this commitment, Royal.”

Ignoring my words completely, his eyes grew a little dark. “I like when you say my name.”

“Do you always have a complete inability to focus, or just when you’re talking to me?” I used my palm and pushed him away, then dumped out my makeup bags so I could organize them accordingly instead of just having everything haphazardly tossed inside.

He leaned in, and I could feel his heat radiating off his skin and seeping into the crook of my neck. “Just you. We leave in ten minutes, Bianca. Not fifteen, not twenty, not thirty—ten minutes. Am I clear?”

“I’ll see you in eleven.” I tossed my hair back, smirking to myself at my inability to let him have one easy win.

His voice lowered as his hands found my hips, pinning them in a bruising hold, and his lower body pushed into me. “If you are up here in eleven minutes, I’ll assume you are ready to be naked and waiting for me, and Bianca?” I hummed in my throat, paralyzed by his touch. “It will be hours before we make it out of this house again.”

Turns out, I could get ready faster than I originally anticipated. I was downstairs, bags by my feet, sunglasses on, in nine minutes and thirty-five seconds. My cocky bastard of a husband watched me lug my stuff downstairs as he stood by the front door, watching, the corner of his lips tugged up slightly.

“Wow, look how swiftly my little wife can get ready,” he pointed out as he grabbed my suitcase from my hand. “Your son is currently with his grandma.”

I heard the hint of laughter in his voice. “Are you mocking me? That rabbit is my baby, probably the only child I’ll ever have, and I will not have my baby’s life mocked.”

“I sure hope not,” I heard him grumble under his breath, and when I gave him one of my most vicious stares, he took a step back. “I’m sorry. Peter is with Greta, and they plan to have an exciting weekend eating grass and running around the yard.”

“I won’t even question which activity is for the rabbit and which is for Greta.” I leaned over, placing my heels on my feet.

He nodded. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

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