Page 24 of His to Bedevil

She curls a lip up in disgust. “You’re sick.”

I shrug my shoulders and just stand there, towering over her and trapping her. “So you’ve said. Do what you need to do,” I say, but don’t move.

“Can I please have some privacy?” she snaps.

“Leave you alone so that you can fancy yourself some kind of weapon?” Really, I’m still worried she might fall and hit her head or something. I know that she’ll probably be okay to wash up on her own, but it’s an irrational fear of mine.

She sighs and crosses her arms. “What if I promise to be good?”

“I don’t trust your word.”

She throws her arms out, exasperated. “Fine.” She scoots out to go to the toilet. Before closing the door, she eyes me. “Am I at least allowed some privacy to sit on the toilet? I promise not to use the toilet paper holder to stab you in your cold heart,” she says in a mocking tone, and I find myself smiling.

“Again, I don’t trust your word. But go ahead.”

Rolling her eyes, she closes the door. I lean my hips back against the sink, still smiling. I love her acidic attitude, but I’m sure it’ll try my patience several times over.

A couple minutes later, she comes out and heads for the sink. She looks at the two toothbrushes on the counter and glances over at me. “Which one can I use?”

I lift an eyebrow. “The pink one.”

“I’m not using your old girlfriend’s toothbrush,” she snipes.

Smiling again because I see a hint of jealousy in her eyes. “It’s a new toothbrush.” I also don’t correct her that I don’t have girlfriends. I have pretty women to play with for a short while then move on. But now I have her and only her, and I plan to keep her for much longer than a short while.

She seems pacified, so she picks up the toothbrush and brushes her teeth. After that, she splashes some water on her face, and I hand her a towel to dry it. “Do you have a brush I can use?” She tries running her fingers through her hair, and they keep getting tangled in knots.

Feeling contrite all of a sudden for not already having more things for her, I frown. “I have a comb if you want. Otherwise, I’ll have someone get one for you. Over breakfast we can make a list of things you need.”

“Or we can just stop by my old place and—”

“Nice try,amente.” I scoop her up again just for the fun of it and head for the table, and this time she makes no protest, but she does glare at me the entire way.

I let her eat her breakfast while I go back to my laptop. I already made sure to have the maid retrieve my empty plate and my fork before she even woke up. We remain silent while she nibbles on her bland food and I’m working.

After she pushes away her plate, I close my laptop again to give her my full attention. I pull out my phone, ready to text to Berto a list. “What do you need?”

She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. “What do I need?”

“For the bathroom. The shower. Feminine products.”

“A lot of things, really.” She blushes a little and glances away. I find it quite interesting how she’s able to stab a man without a second thought, but she embarrasses easily. “Can’t you just give me a pen and paper to make a list myself?”

“You don’t need to be shy here,mi amor.” I’m not a squeamish guy when it comes to discussing things like a woman’s feminine needs. Plus, I don’t trust her with a pointy object like a pen.

She sighs heavily and leans her forearms on top of the table. “Fine. You ready?”

I nod, and she begins naming off certain products and the brand she prefers for each. Everything she needs for the shower and for every day. Picturing her stuff cluttering the sink in the bathroom and my shower brings me some semblance of contentment. It’s an odd and unfamiliar feeling, but I don’t mind it.

After we make the list, I send it to Berto and tell him to get one of the maids to get these products right away. When Irma asks about clothing, I tell her that I’ll have one of the maids get her some clothes to wear for now. Since we’re leaving for Cuba tomorrow, we won’t have much time to go shopping, but maybe I can pull some strings.

“Do you think I could speak to the doctor again at some point today?” she asks meekly.

Frowning, I resist the urge to jump to my feet and go to her. “He’ll be here to check on you in an hour. Why? What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head and blushes. “Nothing. I just need to ask him something.”

Unable to stop myself, I stand to my feet and round the table. Crouching in front of her, I cup her cheek. Her lips part slightly, and she inhales sharply. “Are you not feeling well? Maybe you should lie back down.”

---