Chapitre 52: HARLEY: Do You Want To Kiss Me?

"Stop calling me that," I slurred, already tipsy. "My dimples are not your business." 

Sylus tilted his head at me with amusement. "How are they not my business, Harley? You're my wife, aren't you?" he asked, standing up from the sofa where I was seated with him to walk to the bed.  

"Am I?" I asked, unable to stop the words from bubbling up. "You can't call me your wife. I'm not your wife. This…this is just an inconvenience, and—and in a few weeks, I won't be here anymore."  

Sylus barked out a kind of laughter that made me feel small somehow. "You're not wrong. But what if I don't let go?" 

"Huh?" 

I moved up from the sofa and swayed backward slightly as the room tilted on its axis. The vodka had dissolved what little filter I had, and now I was a drunken mess. "W-what do you mean?"  

"Come here, Harley." He crooked a finger at him.