Page 45 of Thiago
“You want another reason? I don’t like the idea of another man putting his hands on you.”
“Do you plan to piss a boundary around my apartment to mark your territory?”
“Do I need to?”
“You have really lost your mind.”
“I don’t see what you see in him anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He looks like a weasel,” Thiago remarked.
“He does not look like a weasel,” she said.
“With his pointy nose and his beady fucking eyes.”
“He does not have beady eyes! Again, the way you’re talking, I’d think you were jealous.”
“Why would I be jealous of a beady-eyed weasel?”
She glared at him. “You’ve gone too far.”
“Call him and end it now, India.” His voice brooked no argument.
“Or what?”
“Or else.” He kept his voice low and threatening.
“Or else what? You have no power over me.”
“Don’t I?”
India shot him an incredulous look. “Are you threatening me?”
“You have left me no choice,” Thiago said, ignoring the twinge of guilt in his chest.
Her mouth fell open. “So you would fire me if I don’t do what you say? Youasshole!”
“I’m glad we understand each other.”
“Why do you think you have the right?—”
“Because you’remiiiine!” Thiago’s fist clenched at his right side as he dragged out the last word for so long it turned into two syllables.
Silence filled the room. His words shocked her as much as they did him. Good. Maybe now she would stop acting so nonchalant about seeing other men.
He waited in the silence for her to respond. Finally, she stood, straightening to her full height.
“I am not the property of any man?—”
“Spare me the feminist bullshit. I’m not sharing you, and that’s final.”
Her lips pressed together. “All right, Thiago, you want me to stop seeing him. Fine. But I’m confused because you and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We sleep together, but we barely know each other. Last night was literally the first time we went on a date.”
“What do you want to know? Ask me anything,” Thiago said.
“Really?”
