He sent her a sly grin with a flash of white teeth. “If you think you’re not playing a vital role, let me assure you otherwise.”
“By being available for sex?”
The smile fell off his face, replaced by a chilly warning. “By being my wife.”
Suddenly, his ploy made sense. “You’re trying to show me how you envision every day of our married lives.”
On the one hand, she was more than a little touched. On the other, she couldn’t live this way. Did Jason think that the “job” he paid her for in luxuries and physical pleasure was to be at his carnal beck and call?
He stiffened. “Would that be so terrible?”
“So if we stayed married, you’d insist I hang around and be available whenever you wanted me naked? I wouldn’t do anything vital, like work?”
“I would take care of you in every way. Keep you safe, adored, and—”
“Bored out of my damn mind.” She gaped at him. “I need purpose.”
He stalked closer, eyes narrowed. “You came here exhausted and half starved. If that’s what ‘purpose’ does to you, I won’t tolerate it. I’m not expecting you to do nothing. I understand you’re a determined woman with goals. I know your submissive nature drives you to help others. You’ve given a lot to your family. That’s admirable. But you can’t do it all at your own expense, Gia. Let me help you. Why should you give up food and sleep when I can provide them so easily and let you turn your attention to something else important?”
A half dozen relevant responses raced through her head. Her family wasn’t his responsibility. But they’d already had that argument. She understood his point. They hadn’t been married long, but did the length of time matter? Spouses were supposed to be partners in life. If her mother ever needed help and didn’t tell her father, he’d be very hurt. Fine. Message received.
Naturally, Jason didn’t want her important task to have anything to do with bringing Tony’s killer to justice. Hunting Ricky Wayman down alone and cuffing him would bring her immense satisfaction…but the task was dangerous almost to the point of suicidal. And in the back of her head, Gia worried that even if she could manage to arrest the thug and a grand jury indicted him, the trial wouldn’t see right served. Her brother’s former partner, Patrick, had quickly recanted his statement that pinned the blame for Tony’s murder on Wayman, so she couldn’t rely on the lone eyewitness account to convict him. But last week she’d learned from another friend in the precinct that Patrick had bought a fancy new boat this past spring. She could guess where that money had come from, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She’d called Internal Affairs to report the incident, but hadn’t yet heard a thing. Frustration was setting in.
If Jason didn’t see her filling Tony’s shoes again to care for Mila and the kids, and if she accepted that trying to bring Wayman to trial might be exasperating—not to mention risky—where did her husband think that left her? Just a guess, but she figured he would be much happier if she didn’t strap on a badge and gun every day and patrol the streets of South Dallas. Gia had mixed feelings about that.
“I appreciate what you’re saying,” she began. “I just don’t know where that leaves me.”
Jason didn’t answer immediately, and she tensed, watching him open the warming drawer under the oven with a couple of breakfast burritos inside. “Bacon or sausage?”
“Bacon,” she answered automatically.
He grabbed the rolled foil item on the left, then retrieved a plate. As soon as he set her breakfast on the shiny black china, he reached into the refrigerator to pull out a cup of pineapple, bananas, and mandarin oranges. He continually surprised her with her favorite things, and she couldn’t help but be moved, even when she was miffed.
“Take this to the table.” He handed her the plate, then gestured to the breakfast nook.
“I need an answer.”
“Eat. We’ll talk.”
Gia knew damn well that arguing with him when he expected her to fill her belly wouldn’t get her anywhere. Shaking her head, she took her breakfast and plopped down at his table, looking out over the city. He lived in the clouds, her prince occupying his castle in the sky…and she could almost get used to sharing his kingdom every day.
Was she really thinking about staying? The thought was dangerous, but difficult to drown out. How could she do it with so many people relying on her? How did she admit to her family that she’d been married all this time? And how did Jason expect her to fill her days?
Despite all these obstacles, the sense of rightness when she was with him gripped her and never let go.
As she unwrapped the burrito, Gia heard the popping of a cork and turned. Sure enough, he was pouring champagne into a flute and adding a little orange juice.
Her jaw dropped. “A mimosa?”
“It’s one of my mother’s favorites.” He shrugged. “I thought you might like it.”
And he’d arranged this treat because he’d been thinking of her. The whole thing struck her as thoughtful and indulgent, if a little excessive. But he went above and beyond in taking care of her. How could she be angry about that?
Crap, he had her so confused.
As she took her first bite of heavenly warm egg-filled burrito and followed with a spoonful of the luscious fruit, Jason finished mixing the drink and brought it across the room, easing it directly in her hand. Beside her plate, he set a bottle of hot sauce. “Enjoy.”
“I will as soon as you tell me what you see me doing with my next nine days.” Or the rest of my life?