Page 57 of A Bossy Proposal

Why does the thought of West with someone else makes my stomach churn?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to banish the image of him with another woman that is flooding my mind. But they persist.

I slip out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as I walk to the door, down the corridor, and to the staircase.

Tentatively, I reach the top and go to his room. The door is open, but his bed is empty, lifeless. There’s no sign of West.

Tears coat my eyes, and my throat tightens as I make my way back to the living room and sink onto the couch.

What have I done?I pushed him away, thinking it was for the best.

Is it for the best?

Of course, it is a fake arrangement.I fit the bill because he doesn’t want anyone permanent in his life.

My heart sinks into my stomach. My life is already a mess and now these emotions I’m feeling are making it so much worse.

Lying in the dark on the couch, wide awake with my mind racing with regret. I stare out of the window as the night stretches on.

Nothing moves.

I even will the elevator to chime. Waiting… Hoping for him to come home. Instead, I’m mocked by the ticking of the clock on the wall, each second a reminder that this isn’t my life.

Resigned to him not coming home, I curl up on the couch and drag a throw blanket over my body.

The fabric smells of West’s cologne. I pull it closer, burying my face in it, and wait.

“Amelia.” His voice echoes, over and over, like I want the way it sounds etched in my mind. “Amelia, wake up princess.”

I open my eyes and blink, and again as the darkness of the room fades until I see West kneeling in front of me. His eyes catch the faint light from the window, revealing a softness that surprises me.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” he asks, voice low and steady.

“I was waiting for you.”

“You were?” Surprise coats his words.

My heart skips. “Did you go to the club?”

He shakes his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “No. I went to East’s for a pep talk.”

A wave of relief washes over me. I expected him to have gone back to that world, to escape from whatever mess I’ve created between us.

“You didn’t want me to?” he asks, leaning closer.

“No.” My cheeks flush with warmth.

The admission feels like a leap of faith, and it’s both frightening and exhilarating to admit it to him.

He studies my face for a moment, searching for something hidden behind my expression. “I promised you.”

“Thank you.” I smile, too scared to admit how he makes me feel. Yet, the more I think about it West is an open book to me.

“It’s time to go to bed,” he says, his voice thick with intent.

“Can I sleep in yours?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, and I wince. “I need to be close to you.”

What am I doing? This is supposed to be temporary; I shouldn’t want this so badly.

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