“I asked you last Sunday to leave me alone, and what have you been doing for the past week?”

He looks at me with those unnerving, calm eyes and smiles lazily. If that’s not being passive-aggressive, I’m Batman.

“Let’s set some rules for the weekend,” I say before I lose my shit like I did last night, when he purposely was in the terrace, playing guitar and singing my favorite songs.

“Chill, Princess. Look at this beautiful place. You should relax.”

“We’re here to work.”

“No, you’re here to learn about the client and understand what it is they are looking for. There’s a reason they think our companies should share the account.”

“You’re confirming what I just said. This is a business trip. Not some romantic getaway to wine country. If I wanted that, I’d be somewhere else.”

“Like Tuscany?” he suggests.

“You owe me Tuscany.”

“I owe you the entire city?”

I glare before I say, “I don’t find you amusing.”

“I’ll buy you a villa in Tuscany.”

“Wow, you’re going from flowers, balloons, coffee, and food to ‘I’ll buy you a villa in Tuscany’. What if I want a castle next?”

He smiles and shrugs. “Then I’ll give it to you. You can’t accuse me of not trying.”

“This is how things are going to work this weekend. You’ll wear clothes at all times. We don't speak to each other unless necessary and be at least three feet away from me at all times.”

“This is like a restraining order.” He looks at the floor. “So, three feet apart. Your tiny feet or mine? And what if you fall down and I need to carry you or … if you want me to kiss you?”

“I assure you nothing like that will happen.”

“You’ve tripped at least five times since we arrived,” he reminds me. “I’ve caught you all five of them. Those boots are hot but not practical.”

I look at my new Prada boots, which are muddy, scraped and so fucking tight I swear, I’m bleeding.

“The boots are beside the point. Do you understand the rules?”

He nods. “I should keep my distance unless you ask me nicely to ignore the rules.”

“Put a shirt on,” I say.

He checks his watch and says, “I’m going out for a run, Princess.”

“It’s past nine o’clock at night.”

“Aw, you’re worried about my welfare. How touching.” He grins. “The only way I would stay is if you offer me another way to exercise.”

“Get out of here!”

“I thought so.” He leaves without giving me time to say anything else.

Bastard. Why can’t he have warts and shit like that?