He eyed me as he passed a couple feet away, like it was a natural thing for me to be in his home, but he wasn’t sure whether he liked it. I finished tying my hair up, and then dropped my clammy hands to my sides. Grease stained his arms and hands and he was sweaty to a hot degree. God, that plain white t-shirt would be the death of me.

Nico stepped inside, his gaze running from the floor to me. I put a casserole in the oven and then searched the house for a phone.Īs I stood at the island and pulled my hair into a ponytail, my brows knitting from the unsuccessful search, the back door opened. I guessed I would have to put learning how to cook on my to-do list, though it wasn’t as if that was exactly full. I was going to feel like less of a woman if I had to have some other woman make my meals now that I was getting married. There were handwritten notes on the top of each saying what they were in a feminine scrawl. When I opened the fridge, I was relieved to see some pre-made meals I only had to pop in the oven. My skin crawled at the thought of him touching me. I could guarantee that if I were sent to his home for the day, I wouldn’t have been lying languid on his counter from an orgasm I didn’t have to reciprocate. However, when I thought of my other options, I couldn’t help but feel relief from Oscar Perez’s death. I might have to live with him, but this was an arrangement-not a real marriage. I didn’t know how he would feel about me going through his things and I didn’t want to. I had an impulse to clean it, but I quelled it and moved on. It looked like a messy king lived in here. The large bed was unmade, and dress shirts and ties lay over the back of a chair, some fallen to the floor. With gray walls and mahogany furniture, it had a masculine touch. Heading out of my new bedroom, I stopped in front of the master. She was a perfectionist in the kitchen and would slap our hands if we took one misstep, so it had always been easier to stay out of her way. It was a travesty for an Italian woman, I knew, but I partly blamed it on my mamma for never teaching me. He said he had a cook, but it was close to lunchtime and no one had arrived yet.

Oblivion cutting room floor