Page 39 of The One Night Match
NINETEEN
RILEY
“Where did you find this stuff?” Lexi asks when she finally stops giggling uncontrollably. She’s been here twenty minutes, and she’s only just found enough composure to speak in full sentences.
“Here and there. The hardest part was organizing delivery for everything in the short window he was out of the house.” I take a long drink of my coffee.
It’s Cruz’s first day back since the wedding, and I hate to admit I pouted a little when he left. Which is weird because I’ve been desperate for some time by myself, and when it finally happened, I caved and called Lexi to come around.
This is the last thing I ever wanted for myself. The little wife who sits at home and waits for her criminal husband to return from a day of doing God knows what.
It’s what my mother has done my whole life, and I refuse to let myself fall into the same trap.
“But he wasn’t mad?”
“No.” I huff out a frustrated sigh. “He was…amused.”
Lexi turns her body on the lavender couch until she’s facing me. “I know we’re still in the early days, and there are plenty of other things we can try, but has it crossed your mind that maybeCruz legitimately wants to be with you, and that it’s clear he’s going to treat you like you deserve to be treated, and not like a convenient fuck and baby maker?”
I press my eyes shut, the lingering frustration of the last week getting the better of me. Nothing is going how I expected it to, and worse than that, every morning I wake up with Cruz’s arms wrapped around me, even after I lock the door, and I’m sleeping better than I ever have before. “It’s occurred to me, yes.”
“And you don’t think that perhaps you should see where things lead naturally? Without trying to force them either way. It could turn out that he’s only temporarily enamored by you, and in a few weeks, he’s naturally inclined to agree to end things.”
I’ve had the same thought, but honestly, it’s not worth the risk.
My heart is fragile from years of being picked last, of being doubted and underestimated. It’s not strong enough to survive having it broken by a man like Cruz De Luca.
I pull my hair into a high ponytail, taking my time to compose myself before I respond. “If he does have real feelings for me, I don’t want him to get hurt by my leading him on. It’s better that I’m a nightmare straight out the gate, and that way there’s no way anyone can get hurt.”
“Other than me, because I finally have a sister and now, for God knows what reason, I’m helping her try to stop being my sister.” She sighs dramatically.
I was surprised when I opened the front door and found her wearing sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, and not a lick of makeup, because she kind of struck me as someone who was always put together. It was a relief because I couldn’t bring myself to change out of Cruz’s shirt that he put me in after my shower. The one that smells so deeply of him, it’s like I’m in his arms.
Yes, I know. This is exactly what getting attached looks like, and this right here is the reason I need to get the hell out of this marriage before I let myself fall for him.
The black dress pools around my feet, hugging every one of my curves in a way that’s both sexy as hell and conservative. I’m still trying to understand exactly how that’s possible, but I’ve never claimed to know a single thing about fashion, and Lexi assured me this was appropriate attire for my first dinner party as Cruz’s wife.
As adamant as I am to end things between us, I won’t do anything to harm Cruz’s business interests, which means for tonight, I’m putting Operation Divorce to the side in order to play the perfect Mafia wife.
I slip into a pair of black heels I’ve worn a hundred times, meaning there’s less likelihood of me falling flat on my face. Not no chance, but less, which is good enough for me.
Once I’m sure my makeup and hair are perfect, I turn and scream, my heart just about leaping from my chest when I find Cruz leaning against the doorframe with heated eyes.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to doubt the integrity of my zipper.” He squeezes his very hard cock through his pants, and I press my eyes closed as heat washes over me.
This is a problem I haven’t let myself consider since beginning Operation Divorce.
Sex.
It’s the one part of our relationship I’m certain we’re beyond compatible in, and the part that I have to stop from occurring because if he gets near me with what he’s packing between his thighs again, I’m liable to fall in love with his dick and theorgasms he gives me with it…which would lead to a slippery slope of falling in love with the rest of him.
See my problem?
When I pry my eyes open again, he’s smirking. “Come on, Kitten. Let’s get this over with so I can bring you back here and tear that thing to shreds.”
“You don’t like the dress?” I frown.
