“I’m not cleaning your house,” she insisted.
I smiled. “We’ll see.”
In the interest of establishing the rules, I decided it would be best to marry on a Friday so I had the weekend to play house, so to speak.
Already, Gypsy seemed to be settling in and attempting to exert her control over the situation. In the three hours she’d been here, she’d complained about the lack of cable TV, demanded the Wi-Fi password, and whined about my comment that she’d be responsible for making her own meals when I was gone.
“So you can have meals prepared for you?” she asked as she eyeballed the containers in the fridge, “but I can’t?”
“No,” I answered. “Marisa isn’t here to serve you. Although I’m certain it will be a real hardship, you are capable of making a sandwich.”
She slammed the fridge door and glared. “Fine, I’ll just eat out. No big deal.”
“Not likely.” I turned my attention back to the yellow legal pad in my lap, attempting to read over the notes I’d made today.
“What does that mean?” she questioned. “Not likely? I have my own money. I can do whatever I want with it.”
Exhaustion settled into my body as I put my work away for the evening. I’d been hoping to avoid this conversation until she was tired too, but even after unpacking her belongings, she showed no signs of slowing down.
“I made it clear that you’d be cleaning the house for the week,” I said. “And you refused. Which means you’re grounded.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she laughed. “Grounded? What, like I’m five?”
“Yes, grounded,” I repeated. “You won’t be leaving the house until you’ve performed the task I’ve given to my satisfaction. It’s a rather simple concept.”
“And what, you’re just going to stay here and make sure I don’t run off?”
“It’s not necessary,” I assured her. “I can lock every door in this house from my phone if I want to. And even if I couldn’t, you’re wearing that watch. Failing all that, there is one last thing you seem to have forgotten already. I own you, Gypsy. And if you want to fuck with me, be my guest. See how far that gets you. Already, I’m beginning to wonder if prison would be a better alternative.”
Her cheeks flushed red, and her nostrils flared. “You are unbelievable. Do you get off on this?”
“Do I get off on dealing with an overindulged princess who thinks the world owes her everything? The answer is no.”
“You know nothing about me.” She sliced the air between us with her hand, as if to cut any invisible connection we might have.
“I know a lot more than I care to admit,” I replied. “And the first thing you should know is how sorry I am for what happened in your past. But it doesn’t mean that you get to go through life punishing every man who crosses your path for the sins of your father.”
Her fingers curled inward, nails biting into her skin as she turned away to hide the rare display of emotion. “You don’t know anything about my past. I don’t care what you read or who you talked to.”
I let her have that statement because it was the only thing she had right now. The room was quiet, and I needed to establish her boundaries, but my phone alarm went off, signaling it was time for dinner.
I silenced the alarm and walked into the kitchen, retrieving the meal from the fridge that Marisa had prepared for tonight. Gypsy sat at the table, texting her sister while I assembled dinner. When I placed the salad and bread in front of her, she dismissed it with a shove of her hand.
“I’m gluten free.”
“If that were true, then you wouldn’t have eaten the breadsticks at Sinatra,” I said. “But regardless, the choice is yours. You don’t have to eat. You can just sit here while I do.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” She stood and straightened out her dress. “I think I’ll take a shower so I can wash this awful day off me.”
IN ALMOST ANY SITUATION, THEREwas usually a silver lining, and in this case, it was Lucian’s open stonework rainforest shower.
I took my time, allowing the hot water to cascade over my sore muscles and soak into my skin. I’d brought my own bath products with me—thank God—because all he had was bar soap and basic shampoo.
After washing my hair and exfoliating my body, I felt like a new woman. Or at least, I felt I could handle whatever the rest of this weekend held. It was only eight o’clock on a Friday, and I was already bored out of my mind.
Stepping from the shower, I reached for one of the towels, which held a lot to be desired. It appeared that even though Lucian had money, he had no clue how to shop for anything.
I dried off my body and reached for the silk pajamas I’d set out, but they weren’t there. In their place was a cheap white tee shirt and black yoga pants. My eyes burned a trail of fire over the offending items before I wrapped the towel around me and walked out of the master bathroom.