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“You think that’s funny?” Paulo demanded, then tickled her ribs.
“I’m sorry!” she squealed, writhing beneath him. “I’m very, very sorry!”
He slowed, his gaze darkening as he hovered over her. “You love me, don’t you?”
Her laughter died. She stilled, staring into his tense, raw eyes. He wasn’t teasing. He was waiting.
For a moment, she considered making him sweat. But the vulnerable look in his eyes undid her. She slid her fingers into his hair. “Yes, I love you.” Then her smile faded. “But don’t ever use me again, Paulo.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, the ache of his betrayal coming through. “Knowing you offered to protect me just to draw my father out… it hurt.”
“I know,” he said roughly, his sincerity clear. “If it helps, you became a thorn in my side almost immediately.” He smirked faintly. “A thorn I never wanted to pull out.”
“Good.” She pinched his side in retaliation. He grunted, then pinned her hand to the mattress.
“I love you, woman,” he growled.
“I love you too, man,” she teased.
He chuckled and bent to kiss her, slow and tender. “You’re going to marry me, go to art school, and learn to draw hands and feet, right?”
Her eyes widened. Paulo’s chest tightened as he waited, watching emotions chase across her face.
“You want to marry me?”
“Hell yes!” he said immediately, shifting onto his side and pulling her close. “I want you for the rest of my life. But you have to promise me one thing.”
Her lips quirked. “What’s that?”
“Never bake anything. Ever.”
She gasped. “How can you say that?”
“Because your cooking is a crime,” he told her flatly. “I don’t understand how it’s possible when Rosa is a genius in the kitchen.”
She laughed, then nestled against him. “If I don’t promise that, are you taking back your proposal?”
“No.” His arms tightened around her. “I need you, Madelaine. I need you more than light bulbs. And yes, I understand why you stole them.”
She giggled at that, snuggling closer. “Good. Then yes, I’ll marry you. But no, you don’t get the bulbs back yet. You still need punishing.”
“Since you’re moving into my bedroom, that’s going to be a problem.”
“I know,” she said with mock solemnity. “But I’m willing to suffer if it teaches you a lesson. And I’m going to keep trying to learn how to cook.”
“Fair enough.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll just work out a system with Rosa so she can warn me which baked goods to avoid.”
Madelaine snorted, trailing her fingers across his chest. “That won’t work. Rosa likes me more.”
“I pay her!” he argued, indignant.
“And I’m cuter,” she countered with a smug grin.
He glared, then groaned. “Heaven help me, I’m marrying a menace.”
“And by the way,” Madelaine continued, her tone deceptively casual, “I don’t want to go to art school. I think I want to go to law school. Which means I’ll have to go to college first. I’m pretty sure no admissions office is going to accept my finishing school classes as an undergraduate degree.” She huffed, her chin lifting. “I’ll need to get a job to pay for my classes.”
“You will not,” Paulo snarled. “I’ll pay. You’ll go to law school, and you’ll become my corporate lawyer.”
“Nope.” She grinned wickedly and tugged on his chest hair, making him grunt. “I’m going to law school to become a labor lawyer. The ladies at that strip club need me to defend their rights.”
