3

When he said "dress to kill," he meant a dress tight enough, black in color, with straps tied at the back of my neck, a slit that goes up to my thigh on my left leg. The sweetheart neckline exposes the skin of my breasts and, because of the straps, my small tattoo of three stars on my collarbone.

I take a deep breath, feeling his gaze coming from somewhere in his house. I toss my wavy hair back.

"I feel his gaze," he jokes, laughing.

I approach him and rest my hands on his shoulders covered by his denim jacket with Scooby Doo on the back.

"Where did you get this dress?"

"I was waiting for your birthday to give it to you, but the situation calls for it," he looks me up and down, smiling at the end. "It looks better on you than I imagined.

I squeal with happiness and then hug him.

"You love me so much, you even came in the car."

I hear him chuckle, exhaling and catching a whiff of his cologne.

"A beautiful lady like you couldn't come on my elegant motorcycle, you deserve more than that," he kisses my cheek loudly and then cups my face. "Now go and behave."

"What are you talking about? I'm a lady."

"Yes, and you're madly in love with that man. When you're in love, you ladies don't think. Use your head, not your heart.

I scoff at his drama, pinching his wrist to remove his large, cold hands from my flushed cheeks.

"At least we didn't fuck up as much as you guys did," I smile, lightly tapping his cheek.

He backs away, shaking his head slowly.

"Really? You made a deal with a man who asked you not to involve feelings, and you end up falling in love. And you're talking about fucking up?"

"That was a low blow," I slap his

arm. "Anyway, I'll keep my distance."

"That would be for the best," I make a face.

I kiss his cheek and say goodbye, telling him I'll call him when I'm ready to leave. I dial his number as I notice him standing still at the door, probably waiting for me to give him the go-ahead.

"I'm ready to go," I tilt my head.

I raise my left hand and wave it from side to side. I feel his smile through the phone.

What a great choice I made with this dress, you look divine.

He shouts the last part as he pulls his head out of the car, I laugh and blow him a kiss with my free hand.

"I love you," I tell him, and then I end the call.

I turn and walk towards the door. As I ring the bell, one of the staff members opens it right away.

"Good evening," I greet with a smile on my face.

"Good evening, Mrs. Müller, it's been a while," I roll my eyes.

"Lily, I thought I told you to call me Michelle."

I hug her affectionately. I liked her from the first day I set foot here. With her, I don't feel so alone. She's almost my age, so we get along well.

"Please come in."

I shrug. One day she'll call me by my name.

"Where is your boss, the idiot?" I walk with her toward the living room.

"Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

I turn to her voice, my smile disappears when I see him in a completely black suit and a gray tie. He's adjusting the cuffs on his wrist. I cling to my handbag with each step he takes, until he stands in front of me.

My lemon-colored gaze meets his blue-grayish one. I always love that. With each outfit, his eyes change color surprisingly.

He drives me crazy.

"I'm finally free from you," I declare.

Just to break the silent eye contact between us. Slight, thick laughter, full of irony, escapes from his lips. I lick my own, distracting him with that.

"After this dinner, maybe you will be," he comments as he points towards the dining room.

"Maybe?" I mutter under my breath.

Seeing that I'm not moving, he sighs and takes my hand to drag me along. I wriggle my hand, again and again, to free myself from his grip, which becomes stronger. Finally, I manage to release myself a little, but he tightens his grip and our fingers intertwine.

I ignore the fluttering in my belly. Surely the baby is already starting to move in there.

"Here we go," he sits down, placing his hands on my shoulders.

I feel his fingers massaging them, my nerves intensify, and all thoughts of keeping my distance from him go to hell the moment he moves the straps to caress my collarbones and neck. I swallow, scolding myself for enjoying his touch.

My skin has yearned for his caresses all this time I didn't have them. Even though I try not to miss him in my mind, my body knows everything.

And it wants him close.

"Stay away from me," I blurt out, moving my shoulders.

Remembering the reason I'm here, I hear him sigh, and then he takes a seat in front of me, with only the table separating us, and yet he feels too close.

I lift my chin, it's not in my plans to show weakness to him. I won't let him see that this affects me more than it affects him.

"I can't wrap my head around the fact that you refused to come with my driver to arrive with that jerk, and on top of that, put on a pathetic show," I smile.

He clenches his jaw, staring at my face for a long time. His gaze drops to my neck and gets lost in my cleavage and collarbone. Still sitting upright in my seat, I tilt my head slightly to look at him.

How he loves to look at me.

"What bothers you? Is it that the displays of affection, which you call a pathetic show, are not for you?" I raise an eyebrow, maintaining my provocative smile.

He doesn't answer; he keeps staring at me for several seconds, his gaze filled with desire, making me anxious. I look away and direct my gaze at Lily, who approaches with a bottle of white wine.

"Excuse me," she murmurs timidly.

She approaches Arthur, who still can't stop looking at me, and pours white wine into a glass for him. Seconds later, she stands next to me, but before she can pour it, I stop her.

"No, thank you, Lily. I can't have alcohol," I say, and she withdraws with a smile.

"Why can't you have alcohol?" I roll my eyes. "Don't make that face."

"Have I ever done what you told me?" he smiles.

He brings the glass to his lips, and Adam's apple in his throat moves slowly as he swallows the liquid. I lick my lips, fixing my gaze on the empty plates in front of me.

I suppose dinner isn't ready yet.

"Well, in bed, you're very submissive," he keeps smiling.

His devilish dimples don't seem cute to me; they make me want to slap him until he stops smiling. I clench my hands into fists.

I have to stay calm; this could harm the baby. But damn it, his father isn't cooperating.

"I came here, threatened, of course," I emphasize the word, and he purses his lips, setting his glass aside. "To talk about what I already know. Why don't we get this over with once and for all?"

"Why the rush? Is the idiot you came with waiting for you?" I don't respond; he tenses his jaw and his gaze becomes intense. "Why can't you drink alcohol? Are you sick?"

I won't fall into his game. He'll look for anything he can use to attack me, and I won't allow it.

"Not at all, darling. I'm leaving behind everything that hurts me. That includes you," I tighten my fists on the table, becoming exasperated. "Say what you have to say, Arthur, stop holding me back."

"We'll talk after dinner."

He calls for Lily.

"Like hell, we will. Talk now," he looks at me.

"After," he remains unyielding.

"Now."

"After."

"Now."

"After."

"We do it now, or I'm leaving," I interrupt this senseless argument.

I grab my purse and take out my cell phone to call Axel, but in a matter of seconds, my cell phone isn't in my hands anymore—it's in his. I look at him in surprise as he remains serious, anger evident in his gaze.

"What do you plan to do, huh? Call the idiot who brought you here?" I furrow my brow, noticing how upset and irritated he is.

Why does he mention Axel so much?

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes. I don't like sharing what's mine, and you know that. Don't provoke me, Michelle."

"I couldn't care less about that," I step closer, just a bit. "Give me back my phone."

He smiles, and he tucks it into his jacket right under my nose. The amused look on his face boils my blood; he knows perfectly well that I wouldn't dare touch him today.

"After dinner, darling," he mimics my tone.

I growl and return to my seat where dinner is served. As I look at the shrimp covered in sauce, my stomach churns. I'm sure they must be delicious, but my stomach disagrees.

I don't even allow myself to see what else is on my plate. I run, as much as my heels allow me, to the bathroom downstairs, crouching in front of the toilet and expelling all the food I had eaten a few hours ago.

My stomach tightens with each heave, while the disgusting liquid comes out of my mouth eagerly. I feel hands grabbing my hair and tears streaming from my eyes. I spit in the end, flush the toilet, and cover it.

"Do you feel better?" I look at him.

He watches me with furrowed brows, concern evident in his glistening eyes. I swallow, letting him hold me by the hips and help me walk to the sink. Standing in front of the mirror, I grimace at the disgusted expression on my face.

"Can you get my purse? Please," he nods.

He disappears and goes after it. I wipe my cheeks, feeling somewhat sad for some reason. I suppose this is part of the process of being pregnant. This time, he was the one holding my hair and rubbing my back.

At the other times, I don't know if he'll be there.