Enemies On The Mission [b.barnes]

Part 5 - Towels

Marcella's POV

There's only one bed.

How fucking cliche. This is exactly what would happen in one of my romance books. Except in those books the main character always falls in love with the man they're forced to stay close to.

And there's no way I could ever love James Buchanan Barnes.

The man in question pushes past me, his heavy duffle bag purposely being bumped into my shoulder.

I glare at the back of his head before I look around the room. It's decent apart from the lack of beds. There's one bathroom, a small TV facing the bed, a couch with a small round coffee table in the corner and a window looking onto the streets of Bucharest.

"It's nearly 6 I'm going downstairs to eat. We can deal with this shit later," James says. He throws his bag onto the bed.

I'm really hungry and tired so I don't argue with him. "There's a restaurant downstairs?" I ask.

"Yeah, but you're not coming with me," he says side eyeing me.

"James you just soaked all my clothes and I have to put up with your annoying ass for the foreseeable future. I'm hungry, so you're buying me food." I roll my suitcase next to the bed then go into the bathroom in search of a hairdrier.

"La naiba" I hear him mumble. "Fine. But if your not ready in 5 minutes I'm leaving without you," he calls from the room.

(Translation: Damn it.)

I find a hairdryer in one of the sink-cabinet drawers and begin to dry my wet clothes. When I'm confident I've dried off most of the water I switch the hairdryer off and leave the bathroom.

I look around the room, quickly realising that James left without me.

This bitch.

I throw my head back with a groan and stomp out of our room. Honestly, I would do the same to him but it doesn't make me any less angry. I would rather eat by myself but I want to annoy him now.

So, with that thought I walk into the hotel's small restaurant looking for him.

When I finally spot him he's sitting at a two seat table by the window. I start to walk over to him and his attention flicks to me, he rolls his eyes letting out an annoyed sigh.

It's funny how out of place he looks in such a normal little restaurant. His tall muscular frame and the tattoos on his arms make him look intimidating. He's dressed in all black which doesn't help him look any friendlier, not to mention his constantly pissed off face.

He has a serious case of the resting bitch face.

I reach his table and sit in the seat across from him. He glares at me and I smile sweetly to piss him off more, his eyes drop to my mouth before his jaw ticks once and he looks at me again. "Go sit somewhere else," he demands.

I pretend to hum in thought, "You know, I quite like this seat actually."

"You think you're so fucking entitled, don't you? Probably spoild by mummy and daddy your whole life, right?"

Only if he knew.

I feel my face fall for a moment before I quickly act unaffected, the reminder of my parents stings a bit and I hate that he was able to get to me.

"The only person who thinks they're entitled here is you asshole," I reply, ignoring the second part of his statement.

He looks at me for a moment as if he's calculating something, his glare isn't as harsh but he certainly doesn't look happy. I think he's about to say something but he just turns his head and looks out the window ignoring me.