The Borrowed Bride [PUBLISHED]

Chapter 12: Seville, Spain

Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

-Confucius

Leandro Salazar's POV

"I'm ready."

I slowly turned around to look at the woman who just spoke. I silently took a deep breath as I eyed her appearance. I should have expected it since she particularly requested that outfit but seeing her wearing my clothes and my favorite shades made me think twice.

"Are you ready...?" She asked tartly, as her eyes obscure with my aviator sunglasses. "...or you are not yet done ogling at me, Leandro."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Is that what are you wearing?"

"You like it?" She made a show of twirling in front of me so I can see her choice of outfit more clearly. I felt like I'm starting to have headaches with this difficult woman.

"Are you aware that we're going to the city to shop for your new wardrobe?" I asked evenly, trying to calm the bubbling irritation inside me right of this moment. I don't know if I still want this trip.

"Don't you like it, Leandro?" My rebellious wife asked almost innocently. I knew that she's doing this just to annoy me. Well, she's just doing perfectly fine. "Perhaps, I should just wear again my clothes the one I wore for breakfast..."

"No!" I think I answered too hastily. Because I didn't miss the evil smile that flashed in her sinful lips before she remove it lightning-fast and have this innocent look again on her face. "Your clothes now are fine."

"Good," She said in satisfaction as she slid in the passenger's door of my Ferrari. "I thought you prefer my clothes a while ago."

 I chose not to reply to her baiting as I slid to the driver's side of my car. I started the engine and move the car. I don't want to start an argument with her. Bad enough that she already used my quota of patience during breakfast a while ago I don't want to spend the next few hours wanting to strangle that pretty neck of hers.

There's nothing wrong with her appearance right this moment unlike the scandalous crop top she wore for breakfast. She wore the shirt she requested—no scratch that—the shirt she demanded from me in such fashion. She also paired with rip shorts and sky-high heels. If you would look at her, she doesn't look like a woman who just borrowed clothes from her husband but rather she owned the quite large shirt she wore this moment. She looked like a supermodel who just step out of the runaway.

I don't think I want other male eyes to see her...

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue, Señor?" She broke the silence with her signature sharp tongue. "Perhaps, you are fantasying about my sexy body? Like mentally undressing me, correct?"

I threw her a disarming grinned. "You want to talk dirty, wife?"

She gave me a haughty look with a slight smirk on her lips. "Talking dirty doesn't affect me, Your Excellency. Because as far as I am concerned mentally undressing me is the only thing you can do. You cannot undress me physically."

"Ah, I will not be so sure if I were you, querida," I replied with such satisfaction in my voice. "Because whether you like it or not. We will share a bed again. My bed. Where you are supposed to be sleeping as my wife."

"Ah, I will not be so sure if I were you, my darling." Leila echoed my statement with a flash of a smile on her beautiful face. "Because I intend to sleep in my own bed—that is, across to your room, Leandro."

"So feisty," I commented. That's what I like about her. She doesn't like anyone who cowed her. Then a frowned marks on my eyebrows when I remember the event that happened in the library a while ago between her and my brother's widow. "What happened between you and Natalia in the library that made you slapped her?"