Page 19 of The One Night Match
“It’s not the worst thing in the world. At least we know we’re good together?”
I roll my eyes. “Just because you can make me come does not mean we’re good together.”
“It’s a start.” He shrugs.
I’m surprised by how relaxed he seems. Everything I’ve heard about the great Cruz De Luca suggests that he’s a hard man who hasn’t smiled in years, and yet he hasn’t stopped since the initial shock wore off.
I sigh and press my eyes closed, trying and failing to grasp onto the fraying edges of my composure. We still have hours of responsibilities before I finally get to be alone. And that’s only if he decides to let me have time to myself.
For all I know, he thinks we’re going to spend the weekend in bed making babies. Or practicing, I suppose, seeing as I’m still taking the pill.
If I have it my way, that won’t be changing anytime soon.
“Do you have low blood sugar?” he asks suddenly, and I pop open an eye to look at him as he rummages through a cupboard along the side of the limo.
“No?”
“You look a little faint. Did you eat this morning?”
He finally looks up when he finds what he’s looking for—a packet of gummy bears. He rips them open and holds the bag open to me.
The moment the sweet candy scent reaches me, I know I won’t be able to deny him and pick out a few, popping them into my mouth.
I shake my head. “I was too nervous.”
He frowns. “You need to eat, Kitten.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to.”
“Actually, you kinda demanded it. Which is hot, but it’s still a no.”
I breathe out a sigh of exasperation and pop a few more gummy bears into my mouth.
No one ever told me Cruz De Luca is kind of an overgrown toddler slash golden retriever.
Maybe I would have preferred cold and unfeeling.
Cruz presses the call button to the driver. “Ben, can we stop at a drive-through?”
“Getting married make you hungry, De Luca?”
He laughs. “No, my wife hasn’t eaten. I want to make sure she’s fed before we’re thrown to the sharks.”
“You got it.”
The line goes dead, and I’m left staring at him with my mouth agape.
What the ever-loving fuck is going on?
“You don’t have to do that,” I insist.
“I want to.” He smiles, and I swear it lights up his whole face.
It’s only a few minutes before we pull up to a fast-food chain I’ve rarely allowed myself to indulge in. The expectation to stay thin is largely unspoken in the family, but not completely. I’ve spent years dieting so I don’t have to be faced with the judgment of other women at parties, which is why I turn to Cruz in confusion as he orders half the menu.
