Chapter 17

ETHAN. My phone beeps in my pocket and I pull it out, groaning before I hit the green button. "What?" Jared makes a sound. "Little problem here. Ah... Ashley's here." I frown, turning away from May. "Who's Ashley?" "The woman from the club? The blonde?" "I know a lot of blondes, Jared. Be specific, and be fast about it," I say, tossing a quick glance at May. She's in a rather serious *auction* with the seller of the plants, who seems half a breath away from tossing a pot at her for trying to lower the prices. I reach for her, tugging on her shirt. "It's okay. I'll pay for--" She shakes her head firmly, eyes twinkling. "They can go lower. They're only calling out outrageous prices because you're dressed that way," she whispers. I frown, peering down at myself. "What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?" "You're wearing a freakin' suit!" she chides in a hushed, eyes darting between me and the seller who's watching me with keen interest. "I always wear a suit." "Not to the market! It makes you eye candy, and now, no one will believe me if I say I only have a couple of bucks to spare." I blink, not understanding. "I'll take care of it if you've run out of cash." She slaps her palm to her forehead and shakes her head, muttering something that sounds very much like *clueless.* "Don't do that--" Jared is saying and I press the phone closer to my ear, having nearly forgotten he is on the call. "Hey, sugar," a sultry voice flows in through the speaker, drawling and purring in a way that has my jaw clenching in irritation. An image follows and I suddenly remember a blonde in particular. An Ashley. It was weeks ago, before the wedding with May. Nothing had happened between us, other than a couple of drinks together and her pressing her lips and chest against mine. I pulled her off me, but she'd slipped my business card out of my pocket with a single sentence, *I'll be keeping this, hon.* No matter that I clearly said I wasn't interested. "Ashley," I say coolly. "I dropped by," she whines, "but Johnny here says you won't be available." "It's Jared, and I'm occupied, with my wife." A silent pause, and I turn a little to find May's eyes on me. She looks away abruptly when I catch her staring at me with questions in her eyes. My lips part and I find myself about to explain who Ashley is, but I hold it in. There's nothing to explain. It'd be weird if I outrightly started to talk about a woman. May's already established from the beginning that there will be no strings attached in this. No way she feels weird about a woman who's very clearly interested not just in me, but a particular part of me. "Don't matter. What do you say we meet tonight and I show you just how much you're missing—" I pull the phone from my ear and turn off the screen as I shove it into my pocket. Just then, May turns, holding her newly acquired potted plant with a smile that has my gut squeezing. "Done! Here," she adds, shoving the plant into my arms. A flower brushes against my skin and the tip of my nose tickles. It is quite heavy, I think as I shift the weight to my other arm. "Sorry," May says with a nervous laugh. "Need more than one hand to carry more plants." I could tell her it doesn't really matter, but I'm content watching her walk from vendor to vendor, nearly vexing each of them with her supernatural powers of being able to get things for way cheaper than they should be. But they smile at her, genuinely, even as they hand her the bags that earn them no huge profit. There's something about May. A light to her. A lack of darkness in her. I want to shield her from the world, even if I am unsure how. I want her smile never to cease. So she can look in my direction and do it again. Smile at me, hold my heart with one single action. **** The calls are incessant, but I pay them no heed. May volunteers to drive us home and for some reason, I quite like placing my keys in her hand, the slight touch of her fingertips against mine at the exchange caused a tightening in my pants. I feel like a creep. I turned away quickly before she could get an inkling of what was happening to me. She would look at me with innocent wide eyes and probably hit me if she saw the bulge in my pants. Or worse. She'd yell at me. "Let me help with that," May says, inching for one of the ceramic pots and I step in, blocking her path. "No. I'll do it. They're quite hea—" She shoves me aside with surprising strength and lifts one of the vases out of the back of the car. "I'm not a princess, Mr. Stop treating me like one." Yeah, right. I laugh, despite myself, taking one of the vases myself. "What then would you tag yourself as, if not a princess?" Her cheeks turn red as she makes her way to the elevator. "Don't know. They make princesses shallow and weak, unable to even help themselves. I'm neither of those things." I can tell that. Pretty sure everyone else can. "There's nothing wrong with needing help sometimes and letting someone take the lead; take care of you for a little while. There's nothing wrong with being in *distress.* Everyone is at some point. There's nothing wrong with needing *saving*, M." Her head snaps in my direction. "M?" I shrug, hitting the button with my elbow. "You don't like it?" "No--I mean I do--not. I think... it's fine. I...uh," she stutters, unable to meet my gaze. "I like it." "Good, M." She blushes again, hard. "Keep doing that, I'll call you *E.*" My lips twitch, but I don't respond immediately as I tuck that away for a different time. "Children--" May jerks immediately, staring at me with fear-stricken eyes. "No." My brows furrow in confusion. "No?" "We only just got married. I'm not sleeping with you for the sake of..." She practically vomits the next word. "*Procreation.*" My lips part. "Fuck, May. Do your thoughts always head for the extreme? I was going to say *Children. We argue an awful lot like children*, but since you abhor the thought of bearing *my* children this much, then I'll never ever bring it up." I pause, just as the elevator dings, opening. "Stop thinking so much about sleeping with me." Her jaw falls open. "I'm not thinking about it. Or anything like that!" May's hard to read, but if you look closely enough, you'll find her tells very obvious. Like the way her voice trembles slightly when she says something she's unsure of. Or the flaring of her nostrils and her breathing that's sharp as glass. And to top it all, she'll bite her bottom lip The moment I think it, it happens. She catches her lip between her teeth and though it is unintentional, something twitches in my pants. Christ, she doesn't even have to try. She's so goddamn sexy. Every casual reaction looks different on May, and it kills me slowly. Problem is...I am unsure what to think of this. Why does she have these thoughts? Does she...want me as a man? I watch her as she tries to convince me otherwise, even as her cheeks redden with embarrassment and sudden shame. No, that isn't it. I'd know if she did. It is possibly an after-effect of what happened this morning when I touched her lips. The thought has my eyes dropping down and I shake my head, walking away before thoughts of what her mouth might feel like against mine invade my head. What is it then? What does May want? What do I want? Do I want her to want me? Why does any of this even matter now? I don't love her. We've not spent that much time together for us to build something as strong as that. What then is this feeling between us? This tension that makes the air between us feel charged with unseen energy? "Go on," I tell her, inclining my head toward the apartment. "I'll be up soon." Ditching both the pot and my beautiful wife, I make my way to the servant's quarters, fishing out my phone from my pocket as I do. I find Steve, the hired guard, and I hand him some notes, telling him to take up the rest of the pots. My eyes skim through the messages and missed calls, and one stands out. It's from Grandmother. I tap on it and my frown deepens. Apparently, since I have been ignoring the calls from them, my cousins have made a decision to come see me and my new wife. Tonight. How the fuck am I supposed to make them keep their mouths shut about who I am?