Page 18 of Ruthless Claim

“Of course,” I say, nodding my head. God it hurts to keep myself from laughing. “Very flexible of you.”

“One more word,” she says, still not turning around, “and I will pour this entire machine over your head.”

I say nothing because I do believe she is serious even though I so, so badly want to make a quip.

She frowns at the froth when it comes out. The regular milk behaves differently than almond, clearly, and the texture isn’t what she wanted. Valentina stiffens for a moment.

“I can show you how to—” I try.

“I have it,” she snaps.

She does not have it.

What she produces is a cappuccino in name only but certainly not in appearance.

I know it.

She definitely knows it, but she’s doing her best to not let me know that.

She brings the mug to her lips and hesitates.

A strangled noise nearly escapes my lips before I cover it with a cough, unable to keep my eyes off her.

She takes a sip and I wait for the revulsion to show.

But her expression does not change.

I have to hand it to her.

Her poker face is incredible considering whatever she’s drinking is probably horrific.

“There’s a barista mode,” I say pleasantly. “First button on the left. It does the whole thing automatically and takes about forty seconds. Its almond milk compatible, before you ask.”

She turns and looks at me with such a withering expression that a less experienced man would probably apologize.

“Good to know,” she says, in a tone that means the exact opposite.

I shrug. “Just trying to be helpful.”

“You,” she says, picking up her sad cappuccino and moving toward the far end of the island, “are never trying to be helpful. You’re trying to be insufferable and occasionally the two overlap.” She sits down and wraps both hands around the cup and I wonder if she’s imagining the cup to be my neck. “So thank you for that. It was very informative.”

I turn back to the window before she can see that I’m smiling.

“So,” Valentina says finally. “What happens now?”

“Now we live our lives,” I say. “Go to work. Come home. Pretend to be married when anyone’s watching.”

She quirks a brow. “And when no one’s watching?”

“We stay out of each other's way.”

She nods slowly, looking at her coffee. “I can work with that.”

Oh look, we agree on something. “Good.”

More silence. I check my phone and her eyes track the movement.

“Connor wants to see you already.” There’s something in her voice that I don’t like, but I refuse to show it. “You’ve been married less than twelve hours.”