Mercedes in the garage. I lean back in my seat after turning the keys and pulling them out. My forehead is pinched as I stare at the garage door to my home.
She’s still inside.
I didn’t expect it. There are monitors and cameras set up throughout my home. I’d be a fucking idiot not to have them with the sheer number of people who come in and out. From the housekeeping service, to caterers and business associates.
I wasn’t surprised when she started looking through my things. I rest my head back against the leather, staring at the door and remembering how I watched her on the computer screen rather than actually working today. I’d already decided phone conferences would have to substitute for my normal meetings, considering the faint darkness under my left eye. I canceled three of them though so I could focus on watching her. During the fourth and fifth she stayed on my screen, lying on the floor, sprawled out and tempting me to come back to her. To pull her tempting body into mine, but also to see her drawing.
My sweetheart is a beautiful distraction.
And she’s still here.
Or at least she was when I left the office nearly fifteen minutes ago. The realization that she could be done with her art makes me exit the car in haste. Shoving the keys into my pocket, I open the door and kick it shut behind me. The garage is at the side of the house, and I’m well aware that my pace is much faster than it usually is. I’m curious to see if she’s still sprawled there on the floor of the piano room, waiting for me.
My dick hardens in my pants as the mental images of me lying on the ground next to her and slowly teasing her shoulder with my fingertips until she shivers plays in my mind. But when I get to the foyer and see her spot empty, my steps slow and my heart pauses in my chest. She’s been here for hours. Taunting me to come home.
I stare at the gleaming hardwood floor. How the fuck have I missed her? How cruel would it be for her to leave just as I’ve come home when I’ve been wanting her all day? The seconds split and time moves slower as anger seeps in. She’s mine. She should be here. Waiting for me.
I know it’s unreasonable. Even as my jaw clenches, I know I shouldn’t think that way. This is pretend. It’s fake and merely a result of my poor judgment, but nonetheless, I want her. And she was fucking here all this time.
“Oh!” the small sound of her gasp from behind me grips my attention. I school my expression, turning slowly to see her standing in the kitchen. I haven’t missed her. The adrenaline stops pumping in my blood. My heartbeat settles, and my body instantly relaxes at the sight of her in the middle of the kitchen. My sweetheart didn’t slip through my fingers. She’s right where she belongs.
Her dark green eyes are wide and she shuffles her feet as she stares back at me. She pulls her hair around her shoulder, her fingers nervously twirling the ends. “I wasn’t sure-” she starts to say something, but stops as I walk toward her in the open kitchen, my strides slow and deliberate.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” I say and the lie comes out with an unnatural tone in my voice that I don’t recognize.
Arianna doesn’t notice as she clasps her hands and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have work today, and I got caught up.” Her hands fly outward as she blurts out an excuse, and the paper she’s been working on waves in the air as she moves her hands.
“What’s that?” I ask her, nodding to the sketch. I resist the urge to take the few remaining steps forward and snatch it from her. I want her to want to show me.
“Oh,” she says and looks at the paper as if it’s the first time she’s seen it. As if it didn’t encompass the last few hours of her time.
“May I see?” I ask, but the words come out as a hard command instead of a question and I wish I could stop them. I wish I could soften for her. But that’s not who I am. “Please,” I add and clear my throat.
She doesn’t react to the harsh tone, instead she obediently hands me the paper and the thrill