Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
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"I want a separate room." I said firmly when his fingers stopped drumming on the table in the same rhythm and pattern since the past half an hour or so, tapping exactly three times before taking a small pause and then tapping again, and so on.
He stopped at the second tap, my eyes twitching as he regarded my expression carefully while my eyes stayed glued to his hovering finger, my hands itching to grab his hand and make him tap the finger myself.
*Tap*
I exhaled slowly in relief when he tapped for the third time before resuming the same pattern.
"No." His voice was sharp and cold, giving no room for any more arguments when I frowned and shared a brief look with Anthony who looked between the two of us coolly.
"I won't accept your 'no'." I stated, my knee bouncing anxiously as we drew up the godforsaken contract I had dreaded so much.
"I didn't ask you to, Ms. Larau, or are we forgetting our deal?" He asked with a challenging brow raised at me when I swallowed the lump in my throat and gritted my teeth.
So much for progress.
"Why are you so intent on us sharing a room? Couples in love also stay in separate rooms and still have a good relationship with each other. And we are far from being in love." The mere thought of 'love' left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
It was something that always started off nice and sweet, so full of hope and trust and happiness only for it to fizzle out into something bitter or bland, something you wanted to get rid of as soon as possible once the sourness settled in.
"We aren't a normal couple." I stated when he hummed, keeping his eyes fixed on me, unnerving me with his stare as it kissed my skin gently and left me aching for a little more.
"So I've heard." He turned towards Anthony in his swivel chair, thinking for a moment before speaking.
"You already know I won't touch you without your consent," He started, not looking at me but I felt the weight of his words anyway when I nodded, "There's no reason to be afraid then."
"I'm not afraid of you." I blurted out instantly, regretting the way I said it the moment the words left my lips, which proved exactly how much I was scared of him.
"I won't lay a finger on you, butterfly, you know that." He murmured softly, meeting my gaze for a split second before looking away, the tension too high as he gestured for Tony to write.
"We'll be sharing a room, but I'll give her the privacy she needs and won't touch her without her consent." He spoke to no one in particular when Tony tilted his head to look at me for confirmation and I took a deep breath before nodding once.
