A DEAL FOR A LIFETIME

chapter 5

                        BETHEL

"What the f**k?" I muttered, staring at the red, erotic dress—a stylish plain hand-knit rope bikini set. There was no way I was wearing this. I rummaged through the bag and found a small piece of paper folded neatly. I opened it and read:

"I hope you like my gift. Make sure you use the c****m that's inside the bag. You won't want those little monsters in nine months."

What?! My eyes widened as I spotted the c****m inside the bag. This was the first time I had ever touched one. "Bitch," I whispered under my breath, feeling a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. Please don't tell Cole I said that.

I needed to get out of this heavy wedding gown. I struggled to reach the zipper, but my hands couldn't quite get there. Frustrated, I walked out of the bathroom, hoping Rico could help. He was on the bed, engrossed in his laptop, probably working.

"Hey," I called out, but he didn't even glance at me.

"Shawn," I called again. His head snapped up, and he fixed me with an angry glare.

"Don't ever call me that. Only my mom is allowed to call me Shawn," he said, his voice cold and sharp.

"Oh really? Come on, tell me more of your rules," I said, crossing my arms and staring him down.

"Thanks for reminding me. Here are the rules and regulations you'll follow as long as you’re under my roof. Rule number one: I don't like noise. I'm saying this because you look like a parrot."

"Then you look like an elephant," I shot back, my voice laced with sarcasm.

"Just shut up. Rule number two: no honey or nuts in my food."

"Who doesn't like honey?" I asked incredulously.

"Me, you moron. Rule number three: I don't want to see you with any boys. No male friends. You are mine," he said, pointing his index finger at himself.

"No, I'm not," I disagreed, feeling my blood boil.

"Yes, you are. I own you. And lastly, you are going to stop your stupid journalist work and be a full-time housewife," he said with finality.

"No, I'm not quitting my job," I said firmly.

"Yes, you are. Oh, you want everyone to hear that the popular Rico Shawn’s wife is a journalist? That's so embarrassing."

"Look, I'm not here for your trash rules and regulations. Help me with my zip," I demanded, turning my back to him.

"Do I look like a zip opener to you?" he asked, his tone mocking.

"You are a grumpy old man," I yelled, feeling the tears of frustration well up.

He stood up from the bed and walked towards me, his presence imposing. My heart began to race. Only God knows if he could hear it pounding.

"Oh, am I?" he whispered, his voice low and dangerously sexy.

"I—I me—mean y—you," I stammered, feeling his hands graze my back.

"Would you allow a grumpy old man to do this to you?" he asked, his breath warm against my ear. I was too lost in the moment to respond.

"No, you wouldn't," he said, his voice filled with a strange mix of triumph and something else I couldn't place. He turned away and went back to sit on the bed, leaving me standing there, breathless and confused.

He eventually helped me with the zipper, and I hurried back to the bathroom, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. I quickly pulled off the wedding gown and took a long, hot bath, letting the water wash away the tension of the day. I put on my comfortable nightwear—definitely not the one Charissa gave me.