Page 108 of Devil's Bride

Genevieve

If I said I didn’t like the brooding way that Jago studied me, always watching me as soon as I entered a room, then I’d be lying.

Just like I’d tried to do with myself since I’d met him.

If I told anyone I hadn’t noticed him standing in the shadows of the castle when I’d dared venture outside, they’d realize I was telling a fib.

Or when he’d promised to leave me alone at night, only to open my door every few hours to check and see if I was alright.

Or when he’d said nothing while pouring coffee even though I was a few feet away, but his eyes trailed up and down more than once.

But today he was entirely different, taking sullen and quiet to a new level. As soon as he’d realized I’d awakened, he’d gone intothe bathroom. I don’t know what had prompted me to do it, but I tried the door.

Locked.

When I’d suggested breakfast, he’d dialed down to room service and barely ten minutes later, a bellman had arrived with a tray with coffee, thank God, and a bowl of fruit. Fruit? Really?

I’d been thinking an omelet or French toast. I was crazy hungry after the night we’d shared.

But fruit?

He’d made two or three phone calls. While he hadn’t purposely blocked me from them, he had walked into another room. I’d been too irritated to follow behind him, demanding he let me in since it wasourbusiness, nothisbusiness.

Now I stood in front of the window gazing at the gorgeous city in the morning sun, gnawing on a bland apple. All morning I’d tried to remind myself he had a reputation as a big, bad drug lord to keep investing in. However, the reality was that none of his dutiful soldiers could see him.

Or at least I prayed to God there weren’t cameras in the room or outside on the balcony. Now that would be embarrassing. Was I sulking? Hell, yes, I was. This was my very brief honeymoon and other than fucking me, he seemed to want nothing to do with me. That wasn’t acceptable.

Even worse, why was I allowing him to treat me as if it was okay to do this? To me? His wife? And only hours after we’d gotten married? Oh, I could see how it was now. He’d pretended like we’d work together to get me to sign the goddamn contract. He’d even acted as if his hunger for me was intensifying.

But no.

The bastard.

If he thought he was going to get away with stealing my company like that, he was dead wrong. I spun around, already walking forward. With the momentum in full swing, the instant I hit a solid wall of heated mass, both the apple and the half cup of coffee flew from my hands,

The apple was pitched solidly into Jago’s eye while the hot coffee, still steaming, flew all over his nice white shirt. The cup itself teetered to the floor, smashing into pieces.

“Fuck!” Horrified, I clamped my hand across my mouth before tilting my head to look into his eyes.

I had no clue whether he was furious other than he was staring at me for a long, silent moment without saying anything.

“Shit. Did that burn you?” I asked, now fighting laughter. When he finally glanced down at the mess that had once been his shirt, his heavy sigh finally pushed the giggles from the gate.

“Grab your purse,” he said, and if that was his response, I wasn’t certain if I’d woken up with the same man that I’d married.

Was it possible there were two of them? Oh, God, I hoped not. I could only handle one without losing what was left of my mind.

“What did you say?”

“I told you to grab your purse while I change.”

“Are you tossing me out of here?” I asked the question playfully, but I could tell by the continued grouchy look on his face that he wasn’t interested in our usual bantering.

“Do as I say.”

So this was how it was going to be. The ugly truth was that we’d come to Madrid for some business deal. Not for some pretense at romance. Now he required my signature. At least I was in decent clothes.

Because I’d thought, like some dumbass, that we were going to do something fun. Like together. I was such an idiot.

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