My stomach rolls.
Guilt consumes me.
Scrambling from the bed, I rush to the bathroom and sink to my knees before I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Throwing my arm over the back of the seat, I rest my forehead there as tears fill my eyes. I can’t believe I did that… and liked it. No, I loved it.
I don’t owe Viking anything. We’re not together, and he’s made it clear we never will be, but being with Paul solidified that there is no more hope. It’s gone. Vanished. Dashed. And it makes me feel sick.
Stumbling back to bed, I tug on the T-shirt and slip between the sheets. Turning my back to the door, I close my eyes and allow myself to sleep. I’m not sure how long I sleep, an hour, maybe four, but when I hear a noise in the kitchen, I crack my eye open to the sunlight spilling into my room.
Sitting up, I shift my gaze over to the doorway. The door is open. I don’t remember if Paul closed it last night after his midnight visit or not. There is another noise, and then the scent of coffee percolating fills my nose.
Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I slowly stand and then sway. Placing my hand against my stomach, I close my eyes and attempt to gather my strength. I threw up everything I had inside me last night. I’m hungry. Like, beyond hungry. I need carbs.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, I make my way toward the kitchen. When my eyes find him, my feet stop. My entire body freezes. His back is to me, his hair still slightly messy, no shirt, and low-slung sleeping pants.
Hot.
He’s so damn hot.
But I don’t think I want him.
Then he turns his head, his eyes find mine, and a smile plays on his lips. “Hey,” he calls out softly. His gaze slides down to the hem of his shirt, which hits me at midthigh, barely covering my ass. His lips twitch into a smirk before his gaze slides back up to meet my own. “Morning, baby.”
That should send shivers of desire throughout my entire being, but it doesn’t. It just makes me feel… sad. Maybe it’s what I need. Sadness. I should feel this way and just let it consume me so it can get out of my system.
I need to get over whatever I’ve been feeling about Viking. It needs to get into my thick head that he doesn’t want me. No matter how badly I want him, it doesn’t matter that I’ve fallen in love with him. The man does not want me. And I need to accept that.
“You want some breakfast?” he asks. “We have a meeting for lunch around one.”
Shifting my attention over to the microwave, I notice that it’s eight in the morning. I can’t believe I slept in so late. I can’t remember the last time I woke up past six in the morning. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times as I think about how to respond to him. I’m starving, and I need coffee.
“I would love something. I can make it if you want me to. And coffee. I would love coffee.”
He chuckles, shifting his attention back to whatever he’s doing before he clears his throat, and I wonder if this is what life would really be like with Paul, or if he would become a different person.
Is this all for show?
I sink down on the chair at the bar and watch as he moves around the kitchen. He doesn’t ask me what I want. He just gets to work in the kitchen, but before he does too much, he slips acoffee cup in my direction. Flicking my gaze down at the cup, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. It’s clearly got creamer of some kind in it. And I think that’s sweet as hell. Wrapping my fingers around the handle of the mug, I bring it to my lips as I watch him work in the kitchen.
It’s sexy. A man cooking. He cracks and scrambles eggs, then he cuts up fruit, and I watch as he takes a sheet pan of biscuits out of the oven. It smells heavenly, and I don’t even care that it’s probably from one of those can rolls of biscuits. I’m hungry enough that it doesn’t matter.
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Starving,” I confess.
Paul’s lips twitch into a smirk, his gaze flicks down to my breasts, then he shifts them back up to meet mine, and he grunts. “Then I’ll feed you, baby,” he murmurs. “Your clothes should be here soon.”
I don’t ask him any details about clothes. I’m too hungry to do that. Gripping the handle of my coffee mug, I make my way toward the small table that is on the other side of the kitchen. It’s a little bistro set, and it’s cute as hell. Sinking down in the chair, I watch as he brings everything over to me.
This can’t be real. This is just a show, right? Men don’t do these things. I mean, I know my brother does for Millie, but I cannot imagine anyone would want to do them for me. But here is Paul, doing all the things.
Hot. So damn hot. I mean, not hot enough that I forget about Viking… but still hot nonetheless.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VIKING
Piggy narrowshis eyes at me. No doubt he’s pissed as fuck that I let his sister be taken by the Front Mob Family, but he doesn’t know she willingly walked away from me and climbed into the back seat.