I oblige her by taking a big bite. The flavor is subtle at first. Then it explodes on my tongue.
“That’s good.” I take another bite. “Really fucking good.”
How long has it been since I’ve had pasta? Too long, obviously.
“Really?” She breathes a sigh of relief. “I thought maybe I oversalted it.”
I shake my head and take another bite.
And another.
Sutton just watches me, like seeing me enjoy it is as good as eating it herself. I’m used to a homecooked meal, but my dinners consist of medium-rare protein with a heaping side of greens.
But this plate of pasta in front of me—it’s as humble as they come.
And I can’t stop eating it.
“More?” she asks, when it’s clear the giant helping she gave me is not gonna be enough.
I may not be able to act on my horniness, but at least I can take care of the hunger. “Please.”
She serves me another generous helping and replenishes my wine glass while she’s at it. Then she checks her phone, which is lying on the table beside her.
“I gave you anewphone.”
She quickly flips her phone facedown. “I still have stuff on this I need to move to the new one.”
“You expecting a call from someone?”
Again, her bottom lip disappears between her teeth.
And something inside of me writhes.
She signed the contract, but I never asked if there was another man in the picture. I’d like to say she wouldn’t have agreed tothis deal if she was in a relationship, but people have done a lot worse for a lot less than a million.
Is there someone else she’s missing right now?
I clench my fist until the fork begins to bend in my palm.
“No, it’s not— Well, yes.” She sighs. “It’s my sister.”
The burning itch subsides just a little.
“Is she okay?”
Fuck if I know why I care. The contract doesn’t say a thing about pretending to give a shit about her personal life.
“Rarely.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Her boyfriend is… There’s no polite term for it—he’s an asshole. A grade-A asshole who thinks he owns her. Mostly because he does.”
She looks towards the balcony railing, sad blue eyes settling on some distant point.
Some part of me wants to wipe that look off her face. I want to hunt down the bastard upsetting her and crumple him like the trash he clearly is.
But again… that’s not in the contract.
She’s here for a purpose, and it doesn’t include distracting me from the task at hand.
“Speaking of, maybe we should talk about our arrangement.”