Chapter 6

Nothing makes sense anymore. I can't say I'm not relieved that the suite he led me to isn't the one he originally had when we were together.

This one is equally luxurious and magnificent, but it oozes with familiarity and warmth this time. His personality is intertwined with the extravagance and it makes it less intimidating if that even makes sense.

I've always known that he was raised and spoiled with luxury, but he never flaunted it in my face like the others in his social class do. Sure, he'd still get high quality stuff, but if it was absolutely necessary. There's a difference and it's always set him apart from the others.

He's the diamond in the rough or at least he was until he wasn't.

"Nice place," I tell him, scanning the surroundings with precision.

I'm not at all trying to search out clues for another woman. Nope, not at all. There's no hint of feminine influence. There's no pictures of a significant other and it's aggravating me to no end. Then again, we haven't gotten that deep in his living quarters.

He chuckles and my eyes dart to him. "Thanks," he says, walking further into his suite. I quickly follow him, wondering where he's taking my suitcase. "I think. I never know with you."

He almost says it so fondly that my heart aches a bit. Is that the ice cracking? It better not be. It's one thing with my body betraying me and my mind waging a fucking civil war, but my heart can't afford to get tangled up in this mess.

He opens the door to a room and I stop short. My heart stops. My breathing stops. Everything in me stops and the whiplash is killing me. It's clearly not his bedroom. I'm quite sure it's a guest room since it's smaller than what I expect the master bedroom to look like, but the familiarity of it breaks my soul.

The shades of color are too familiar. The ceiling is covered in the night sky swirling down the walls. The familiar forest line is painted beautifully on the walls. The beautiful river framed by the grass I remember feeling beneath my feet is partially seen beneath the dark green rug. Pale green shades make up the soft, inviting bed with dark cherry red wooden frame, because I told him I preferred wood over metal years back. There are gossamer white waterfall curtains framing the beautiful sight of the city.

The artwork on the walls are too familiar. The black and white noir photography I gushed about when we were together by photographers that I dragged him along to see their exhibits and galleries adorn the wall. There's a vintage secretary desk by a wooden bookcase. I don't even have to read the titles to know I'd love each and every book there.

My eyes snap to his in question and confusion. There's so much emotion in his eyes. He opens his mouth to answer my silent questions in mine, but we both remain uncharacteristically quiet.

"Will this work?" he asks.

His voice strains with tension that my heart understands, but it doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense. I can only nod my head, because I can't even find the words to voice what my brain can't even decipher.

He gives me a small smile. "I'm right across from you." He points across the kitchen. He nods to the left. "The bathroom is right next to you." I can only nod my head in understanding. "Alright, I'll leave you to settle in then. When you're ready, I can show you the rest of the suite."

When he leaves, he doesn't shut my door. I stare after him in shock. I hear him as moves through his place. After a few moments, music starts to fill up the silence and nostalgia bleeds me dry. All of this is just so familiar. He would listen to music while he read the book of the week and I would flip through the latest photographer's photograph book.

My eyes swing back to the bedroom that's mine for the time I'm here and I feel like crying. He had someone paint an exact mural of the actual photograph I took when we took our first romantic getaway from the hustle and bustle of life. He made a room dedicated to me even though he told me to basically get the fuck out of his life.

Well, heart, sayonara. It's nice knowing you. You're good as fucked. The question is now if my soul will actually survive this, because I'm now convinced he's the devil. He's evil incarnate, because why would he do something like this?

***

I've set up everything in my new room that I have a love-hate relationship with. I adore it, but because I adore it so much that I hate it. He's fucking with my head and my heart and I don't know why.

My smartphone rings and I see the familiar Caller ID flashing across the screen. Maverick had stepped out for pack business that came up that he needed to take care of. He promised to bring us back some takeout. It's strange to see Maverick rush off, but it's not like I didn't expect it. He's now become a crucial part of his pack.

"Hey," I say as I accept the call and put my smartphone on speaker. "I'm not dead yet. I'm barely alive. I still hate you by the way." Darius laughs at that. I even hear Maggie in the background. "Maggie is exempt of course. Only you get all the hate."

"You still love me just fine," he tells me.

I roll my eyes. "No, I tolerate you. I love Maggie though."

"I love you too," Maggie calls out so I can hear.

"Did he tell you that he turned down multiple blowjobs?" I casually ask her. "And he still made me go here by myself."

"You're still salty over that," Darius quips and I sigh. Of course I am. The man turned my magnificent mouth on his small dick. "Get over it, Tempest. Did you get there? How's the accommodations? I hear we'll be living in the lap of luxury."

I glance around the room. My laptop is currently on the bed. My clothes are all hung up in the closet. I changed into my pajamas after a well-needed shower. I took one the moment he left to eliminate an awkward encounter since the bathroom faces the living room.

The last thing I need is to walk out only clad in a towel and make a fool out of myself. Nope, I don't trust my traitorous body not to magically drop that towel and fling my sexually deprived body at him. Tomorrow will be a new battle to face in that war with myself versus my body and towel dropping.

"Um, there's been a slight deviation from plans," I manage to get out.

I nibble at my bottom lip as I think about how exactly I'm going to explain this predicament. How do you say that my ex-boyfriend who fucked me over and myself are currently fake dating?

"Okay, well, what's the deviation?" Darius asks me.