Chapter Thirty-three – The schedule

Chapter Thirty-three – The schedule
BLAINE

She was quiet on the ride home. Silently brewing in the back seat. 
As soon as her friends were out of sight, she swatted away my hand and the next moment send a side kick to my side. 

I blocked her attack with ease, making her scoff with annoyance. She strolled off to the car, getting in and slamming the door behind her. Such an interesting girl. 

Pissing her off had been fun, but I did not expect her to attack me so bluntly. She was even more amusing than I anticipated. And more defiant as well. 

I felt her glare at the back of my head. In the rear-view mirror, I saw a slight pout. Adorable. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and when our eyes met in the mirror, she would look away instantly. Embarrassed to get caught. 

The moment I turned the motor off, she was already out of the door and storming into the house. I sighed, letting my head fall back against the seat. Was I enjoying this too much? 

I needed to stop playing eventually and get her ready for her future, though. Claire awaited me by the door, informing me that Malia had gone straight to her room. Her defiance was what enticed me in the first place. 

But she needed to learn some boundaries. I was the one who needed to teach her. 

Better start late than never, I thought to myself, making my way to her room. I went to her room, knocking on the door. When no answer came, I tried again. No answer again. 

I opened the door slowly, pocking my head in. Empty. Already retreating, I caught the sounds of running water. She was in the shower. 

Might as well wait. 

I regretted it instantly. 

A few minutes later, she strolled out of the walk-in closet, wearing loose trouser shorts and a crop top, giving me a good view of her abs. Crunching her silky hair with a towel. She was fucking hot. And I could feel an all-too-familiar twitch in my pants. 

A never-ending problem, ever since she was in my house.

She didn’t notice me directly. Another skill she needed to work on. Perception wasn’t only crucial in combat. Especially as an high value individual. Which she was as soon as her relationship with me became public.

For a moment, I considered looking away to avoid torturing myself further. Not a manly thing to do. And also not very indifferent, which I was supposed to be towards her. 

“I am happy you feel comfortable enough to let your guard down like that.”

She spun around, clutching the towel to her chest. There it was again. The defiance. Hate. Disgust.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” she hissed, throwing the damp towel on her bed and crossing her arms under her chest. Did she torture me on purpose?

“You run off before we could talk”, I stated nonchalantly, stood up, and walked towards her.

“There is nothing for us to talk about.” Her tone stayed sharp and unyielding. I saw her body flinch when I stepped closer. Her muscles told her to run away, step away. Her mind told her not to show any fear or weakness. I liked that spiteful mind of hers.

Standing right in front of her, I looked down at her. Reached for her chin. Tilted it upwards. She glared at me, seemingly unmoved. But she was not in control of the blood rushing to her cheeks. Or the glint in her emerald eyes. 

“Na, na. Is that a way to speak to your boyfriend?” I whispered, now closer to her face. She gritted her teeth and pushed me away. 

“Don’t forget your place”, she spat, surprising me. My place, hm? “Sadly, I wasn’t lucky enough to meet my fiancé yet; otherwise, you wouldn’t have been there. Don’t forget that. You are just a double, nothing else.”

My hand flew to my chest in mock hurt. “Ouch. You are hurting my feelings.”

“And here I thought someone like you wasn’t capable of such things.”

I stepped in closer, reaching my hand for her face. She slapped it away. I reached again, and when she wanted to swat it away again, I caught her wrist and pulled her closer to me. Losing her footing, she had no other option than to crash into me. 

I held her to my chest with my free arm around her lower back. 

“Not gonna lie. I do enjoy this defiance of yours,” I confessed, “But there are limits to what I can allow without punishing you for it.”

She gulped. Understanding the warning tone. Yet she tried to wiggle away. Insecurity rushed through her face, and the next moment, I felt her leg behind mine. A trick I already knew. I changed my stance, sweeping her leg away from under her instead. 

Like the end of a dance, she was now lying in my arms. My left arm held her weight, wrapped around her shoulder. The other hand was still holding her wrist. 

“Fuck” she mumbled, as she found her footing and stood up right again. I let go of her. “You’re good. I have to give you that.”  A defeated sigh in her voice. But her eyes still carried out a silent fight. She moved around me, visibly uncomfortable with the close proximity. 

My eyes stayed fixed on her while she picked up her towel and threw it in the laundry bin in her closet. Then she picked up her school bag and took out a bunch of books, placing them on her desk, before dropping down in her desk chair. Only then did she face me again. 

“This is not gonna change anything about me defying you, any chance I get. First, I didn’t see anything in the contract that would deny this behavior. Second, you told me yourself to fight. So you can’t really whine about it, can you? And third, as long as that fiancé of mine doesn’t show up and show me that I need to be afraid of my actions, I will do the fuck I want.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

“Yes”, she started, pulling out a sheet of paper from one of her books, reaching it out. “This is my weekly schedule. Starting tomorrow, I will return to it.”

“Is that so?” I asked with a raised brow. She scowled at me, annoyed. 

“Yes, it is. My injury is fine, so I don’t see an issue in returning to my schedule. I agreed to this marriage, but I won’t let this control my whole life and how I spend my time.”

My eyes flew over the list. Like I didn’t already know what was on it. MMA training, riding, archery, herbal medicine, and online study classes. All the things I had manipulated her into over the years of her childhood.

“Fine. I will drive you.” She looked at me, dumbfounded. “What is it?”

“You are just letting me go? No arguing?”

“Would it change anything?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled. Dinner will be ready at six,” I said and left the room.