I dropped my purse and headed to the bedroom. Dare lay atop a bed, already made, with a totally masculine, self-satisfied grin.
I inhaled and tried to calm the rage climbing inside me. Why? Was he ashamed of my place? Did he think I couldn’t take care of myself? Or did he need this place to be his like I was his? Men. Just when I thought I could trust them they hit me hard and low, taking me down.
Now my sanctuary had become his, and it hurt. I’d wanted a bright floral couch, to pick out my own bed, to have a say in my furniture. This bedroom was no longer mine with the large headboard and matching chest of drawers.
I pivoted away and stalked back into the living room. Disgusted, I moved to the kitchen and grabbed an onion to start dinner.
“What do you think of the stuff?” His low rumble set my teeth on edge.
I chopped the onion faster, trying to get rid of the anger. I pushed it down, tried to swallow it, but it sprang back up, refusing to go away.
“Red, look at me.” He stood in my kitchen doorway.
I set down the chef’s knife and glared at the idiot.
“Why you pissed?” He had the nerve to sound insulted.
Chapter Nine: Lila
“Me? Pissed? Why do you care what I think? Did you and MJ cook this all up?” My face heated to think she’d known this morning that Dare furnished my place.
“What the hell’s MJ got to do with this?” He stalked toward me.
I rolled my eyes. “Who? Who died and made you boss?” I shouted the stupid words. He was my freakin’ boss. “What gives you the right to furnish my place? I told you—I’d do it.”
He scowled, and his lips flattened into a slash. “Then you should’ve fucking done it. Been a month since you said that.” He moved until we stood body to body.
I leaned against the counter craning my neck to see his face. With a huff, I pushed him back and he went. I moved past him and stormed into the living room. “So you had the club take care of it.”
“What if I did?” His voice quieted. “You too good for the club?”
He wasn’t hijacking my pissed off. “This is about my life, and you, you’re interfering.” I threw my hands over my head. “I stick my nose into your shit at the club? I hold your hand and see if you need help pissing?”
A smile flashed.
“Don’t you fucking laugh at me.” I hurled words at him. “I can...take...care...of...myself.”
“Can you?” His anger pulsed with each step, like a physical presence in the room. “You don’t let me help. You don’t ask the club for help. You don’t even ask for an advance to take care of shit you need.” He crowded me back to the bare wall by the door.
We’d had the most amazing sex against my door, and now it was all over. I’d be packing up and finding a new job again.
“Three strikes, Red. Now, I’ve taken care of it. Never doubt, I will take care of business, whether you like it or not.” He spoke low in my ear with a quiet rage banked in his tone.
“You? Who gave you the right to decide?” I sputtered the words, my anger running its course. I bit back the tears that threatened. “This is my home. My first place, and I wanted to do it, now it’s yours.” I bowed under the weight of the words.
He tugged my chin up. “Just because you get help doesn’t make this less yours. You get other furniture, toss it to the curb. Until then, I’m over sleeping on a damn air mattress and staring at the wall.”
I heaved out a breath, defeated. He sort of made sense. In fact, I’d sort of gone crazy when all he’d done was be kind to me.
“Come sit down.” He dragged me to the couch.
Collapsing onto it, I hid my face in my hands.
“I meant for you to be happy about this.” The couch dipped when he sat beside me. “So happy, you’d want to break in the bed with the surprise I brought you.”
I glanced at him.
“There’s a reason I don’t do this shit. I don’t get it right.” He started to stand, but I squeezed his leg.
So I’d probably overreacted.
“Don’t go.” I almost whispered the words.
He frowned at me.
“I didn’t need the club’s help. I can do it on my own. If I’d known it bothered you, I would’ve done it already.” I stared up at the water-stained ceiling, trying to rein in the bitter tang of disappointment.
“Club? What’s this got to do with MJ or the club?”
I stared at him. “You said the club wanted to help and then MJ asked me on the way to lunch. Didn’t you have her or someone do it?”
“MJ asked you about furniture?”
“No, if I needed anything. But I said no. And here she knew about the furniture.” It ate at me for some reason for her to solve my problems.