Page 10 of Resisting Royal

CHAPTER 6

BIANCA

If it wasn’t for the strong, heavenly aroma of coffee wafting through the air, and the obnoxious beat of hammers pounding, I would have thought that last night was for sure a dream. One wild, crazy, out-of-this-realm-of-normal dream, but a dream none the less.

I rubbed my tired eyes with the back of my hand before reaching over and grabbing my phone off the charger. Five fucking forty in the morning. I groaned and covered my head with a pillow, trying to drown out the sound. It didn’t help; in fact, I was pretty sure the floor started vibrating throughout the whole structure.

I threw the pillow at the wall before tossing back my blanket and stomping out of the room. I should have been alarmed that my house was swarmed with construction workers that I never hired, but I wasn’t. No, not one bit. The sound only confirmed that my nightmare was my reality, reverified by the tall, dark, and handsome man standing in the middle of my kitchen with black shades on and a tray of coffee in his hand.

“What do you think you are doing?” I demanded, not even bothering with a hello or caring that he was mid-conversation.

“Amore mio.” He turned to the worker he was talking to and excused himself before turning back to me and setting the coffee down. “Troy said your home is in despair.”

“Troy needs to mind his own business and stay out of mine,” I instructed.

“You are my business; therefore, you are Troy’s business.” His brown eyes traveled up and down my body before meeting my gaze again. “What are you wearing?”

I looked down and realized I didn’t even bother changing out of my fluffy pajama shorts and t-shirt. “Pajamas.”

His gaze dipped again before he cleared his throat. “With all these men here, you didn’t think about putting on something more appropriate?”

To be honest, I didn’t really think at all before I stormed out. A worker walked by, and I swear Royal nearly threw his body over mine to block me from view. “No, I really didn’t.”

“Go put on clothes, then we’ll talk,” he instructed.

“No. We will talk now, why are all these people here?” I stood up straighter, looking at him defiantly.

“Bianca,” he said, my name ending on a growl.

“No.”

“Bianca. Clothes. Now.” He pointed down the hall.

“Do you think talking to me like a child is going to encourage me to go anywhere you tell me to? Why should I listen to you? Because we’ve been married a total of five hours? A farce of a marriage. You may have my name on your paper of ownership, but you don’t own me.”

His nostrils flared, and a second went by, then another, without a single muscle moving. Then suddenly, I was in the air, my eyes locked on a well-muscled back concealed in a navy colored suit. Five strides, maybe ten, and he dropped me on my feet again, both hands slamming against the wall behind my head, caging me in.

“I asked you to do something because I am your husband. Not just on paper, but in all the ways that matter, Bianca Russo.” He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “I have these people here to fix this place because this is your property. Yours, not mine. You’re free to do what you want with it, but know this, you no longer live here. As discussed previously, you will be moving in tonight, dinner is at eight. You will be there because you are my wife.”

“Moretti,” I challenged him.

He leaned in, his nose brushing against my cheek before his lips found the shell of my ear. “Russo.”

Damn it. I didn’t want to admit it, but the whisper against my skin sent a shiver through me. “I think I’ll keep Moretti.”

My voice sounded breathless, even to my own ears. “Mmm, Mrs. Russo, there are some things I will easily lie down for and let you win; this will not be one of them. Tonight, my place at eight. Make sure whatever arrangements you need to make for this marriage to work for you are taken care of before.” His lips found the spot under my ear, and trailed kisses down to the curve of my neck. Without even realizing it, my fingers had come up and wound their way into his hair. “Now, I’m asking you. No, Bianca, I’m begging you to put on some clothes. Whatever changes you want to be made, just tell them. The roof should be done by nine, the appliance replacement is scheduled for two, pending your color approval.”

He managed to talk business as his body casually leaned against the wall. Meanwhile, I was nearly a pile of goo at his feet. It shouldn’t be this easy for him, and I knew it, but the way his tongue traveled over my deprived skin forced my body into treachery. I couldn’t process what to say, so I answered for everything in general. “No.”

He chuckled against my skin, the vibrations shooting straight south. “Amore, I do love your spunk. Eight o’clock.” He pushed his body away from mine, and I had to struggle to gather my brain cells again. “Oh, and Mrs. Russo?”

“Hmm?” Damn it. I realized my error a moment too late.

He smirked. “I left your coffee in the kitchen. If you want it hot, I would suggest putting some fucking clothes on.”

An hour later, I had changed my clothes, talked with the contractor, picked out my appliances, and finally locked myself into my room to prepare for work. I took a sip of coffee, cringing, and cursing myself that I let it go cold when he had brought me the good stuff, the high-end coffee from an upscale joint across town. Flipping on the shower, I wondered if Mr. Russo planned to pay the water bill from last night when he dragged me away without a choice and left my shower running.

Ha. I was going to bring it up. If he could pay for a new roof and appliance, I could push a water bill in there. At least half, I mean, since he was my spouse and everything. I picked up my cell phone as I searched around in my closet, finding an outfit that I never got to finish searching for last night. I dialed Natalie and waited for her to pick up.

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