My stomach drops. “Don’t tell me you expect us to sleep in the same room.”
His cocky smirk is infuriating. “Of course I do.”
“Worth.” I cross my arms, glaring at him. “No.”
“It’s expected. You’re my fiancée. We share a room.”
I flounder for an argument, until a thought sparks. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, you know.”
He doesn’t even blink. “This isn’t a typical wedding, Mya. And luck has nothing to do with it.” He tips his glass toward me. “I expect you in my room tonight.”
My jaw clenches, heat rushing to my face. “You are impossible.”
“True.” His eyes glitter over the rim of his glass. “But I usually get my way.”
I huff, grabbing my bags and storming past him, slamming the bedroom door behind me.
The adjoining bathroom is a marble dream, and I peel off my clothes with jerky movements, my pulse racing far too fast. Steam curls around me as I twist on the shower, stepping under the hot spray.
The water beats against my skin, but it does nothing to wash away the frustration I feel about Worth’s hot and cold behaviour.
Steam still clings to my skin when I step out of the bathroom, towel knotted around me. I stop dead in my tracks.
Worth is sitting in the chair tucked in the corner of the room near the loveseat, his glass of whiskey dangling from his hand, face half-hidden in the shadows. Watching me.
“Are you serious?” I snap, clutching the towel tighter. “Do you make a habit of lurking in women’s bedrooms like a stalker?”
His mouth curves, that infuriatingly arrogant smirk catching in the dim light. “Only when the woman is my fiancée.”
Warmth rushes to my cheeks, mostly in irritation. I march to my suitcase, snatch my pajamas, and storm back into the bathroom to change. When I reemerge, he’s still there. Same chair. Same piercing stare that makes my skin prickle.
I grab a pillow off the bed and hug it to my chest. “Fine. You stay here and play sentry, I’ll take the couch.”
“No, you won’t.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“You’ll be uncomfortable all night.”
“I’ll survive.”
“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Mya.”
The air in the room feels heavy as he rises, stepping closer.
Words tangle in my throat. “I don’t want to sleep next to you.”
He sets the empty glass on the dresser and tilts his head slightly, the faintest crease forming between his brows.
“I’m not asking you to want it,” he says evenly. “Just don’t act like I’m the enemy.”
“I’m not,” I murmur, clutching the pillow tighter. I let out a sigh. “I just need space. That’s all.”
Worth moves even closer. “Funny. You didn’t seem to mind my space that night after the gala.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “That was different.”
“Was it?” His voice dips. He takes another step closer, enough that I can smell the faint trace of whiskey and his cologne. “You can have space. Even in the same bed.”