Page 81 of The Woman on the Jury

I even prepared freakingsnacksto keep in the room with me.

The logical part of my brain was cursing me for being a coward.

But even after some sleep, I felt raw about the whole thing.

It wasn’t until I went back into my room, closing and locking the door, then turning out the lights, that I admitted to myself what was going on.

Some part of me, whether it made a single bit of damn sense or not, was starting to like Cosimo.

Because a man couldn’t be all bad if he was remembering to send food and dropping thousands of dollars on my clothes and keeping not only me but my grandfather safe.

I shot up in the bed at that thought, realizing there would be no way for me to visit or even call my grandfather if I was avoiding Cosimo.

I tried to remind myself he was in the best place for him. But I couldn’t shake the guilt even as the way my heart flew into my throat when I heard Cosimo come home reminded me that I was doing what was best for myself. At least for the time being.

Maybe in the morning, I could ask one of the guards if they could take me to see my grandfather. Or, at the very least, let me borrow their phones to call him to chat. He wouldn’t mind that. He would think I was doing right by the shop by not closing it to come and visit him. His workaholic nature played out in my favor this once.

I sat there, damn near holding my breath as I heard Cosimo moving around the apartment, mostly focusing in the kitchen, but then heading upstairs, only to come right down again.

His footsteps came closer to my room, and I swear my heart seized in my chest as they stopped outside of my door, pausing, listening.

Hearing nothing, he did eventually move away.

I heard him speaking periodically throughout the evening, talking to the guards, or more often, on his phone. Before, finally, he made his way upstairs.

I could hear the water in the pipes as he took a shower. I wasn’t proud to admit this, but my traitorous imagination pictured him in there, the water running down those indents of his muscles, the soap bubbles slipping down his body. And maybe he would reach down, grabbing his cock…

No.

Nope.

I wasn’t letting my mind go there.

My stupid libido was the reason I was in this mess.

All I had to do was push him away in that dressing room when he reached for me, and none of this would be happening. But no, I had to find it hot, and allowed it to happen.

Grumbling, I pulled the blankets over my head, and went ahead and didn’t sleep. Not for hours.

But, eventually, boredom won out, and I drifted away.

It was the front door closing that woke me up the next morning.

I wouldn’t let myself immediately go out, though, worried that he might circle back. It wasn’t until half an hour passed that I went out into the kitchen, finding coffee waiting for me.

When I went into the fridge to get some cream, I saw a container that hadn’t been there the night before.

Pulling it out, I found steak, mashed potatoes, and asparagus sitting there.

He’d ordered me dinner.

Then put it away when I hadn’t come out.

Damn him for being thoughtful.

Though, I tried to tell myself, it was a sad state of the world when remembering to feed someone was considered ‘thoughtful.’

Coffee in hand, I made my way upstairs, planning to steal yet another shirt to wear, though I would be pairing it with the five-hundred-dollar jeans that had been included with all the other clothing. The shirts all felt too nice to just be wearing while bumming around the house.

---