Abuela has cooked all my favourite - Paella and Gazpacho. All evening Dimitri was charming Abuela in his sexy Spanish. I wished I could put a barrier up so somehow she'd be immune to it. She's clearly growing fond of him, only having met him once and quite frankly, I don't blame her.

After dinner, we sit watching Britain's Got Talent and Abuela cracks open the photo album. Dimitri sits next to her, laughing at my baby pictures and getting high off my stories from childhood. I was a relatively good girl and always listened to what my teacher (who was my Mama) said. However, as a fifteen year old, I just hung around the wrong crowd and started developing bad habits.

I stop in my tracks, turning to watch Simon Cowell brutally reject the contestant in which they run screaming off stage. "Bella, ven aquí," I frown, walking closer to her. She looks disappointed, her hand reaches out to mine. She holds it up, examining my left hand.

"Where's the ring?" Panic swarms me instantly like a summer heatwave and leaves me scrambling for a sentence.

"I proposed to her with my mother's engagement ring but had to send it back to the jewellers for resizing. Should be back with Isabella on monday morning," I sigh a breath of relief.

Dimitri meets my eyes, a gentle smile forming on his lips. It's a sign telling me to relax. The answer seems to suffice to Abuela. "Send me then picture of the ring when you get it back,"

"Sure Abuela," With flushed cheeks and in need of a breath, I leave the room. Dimitri says something else. I can't hear it, it's muffled. "But I'm planning on... everyone needs to see... no, don't worry. I'll take good care..." it's too loud, too warm, too blurry.

My eyes trail up the stairs, on the left there's an empty box room. That's where Dimitri will be sleeping. I pop my head into the room and call out, "You still got the box room, yes?"

"Box room?" She frowns. "Why on earth do you need the box room, I turned into a storage room because you stopped visiting me." Great.

The night had rolled in, we were sent to bed at ten like teenagers. I said goodnight, she went upstairs. A door opening, the creak familiar. Before the sound of her footsteps darted to the other side and her bedroom door closed. Dimitri and I simply stared at each other before deciding to step out into the cold to retrieve our luggage. He quietly followed me upstairs, the same thought as mine hot on his mind.

I shouldn't have told her Dimitri was my fiancé. I shouldn't have lied to her. I should've told her the truth – your granddaughter has a special place in hell for marrying England's richest man for money. Anything! I mean, anything to avoid this.

Dimitri is staring at it too, except his face is unreadable. Abuela has put us in a room together, there's only one bed.

"Well, this is lovely," he remarks, finally slicing the ice. My tooth meets my lip, trying to think of a better sleeping arrangement. But at this rate, there's nothing we can do about it. "You wanna get undressed then?"

I snap my head towards him, brows pinching together. What the fuck man? "What?"

"I mean, no you've got me wrong. I meant to say you should get ready for bed. Y'know get into your pjs?" He's redder than a tomato. Did I mention there's no sofa in the room either? Abuela's got the basics, wardrobe, dressers, one single giant bed and baby blue curtains.

"I'm gonna start unpacking," I tell, already moving away from the brain fog that is the sleeping arrangement.

"Me too," he calls, feeling the same way.

We move around the room in silence, it's comfortable. The only sound coming is the unzipping of suitcases, the rustling of clothes and footsteps. I can't let him sleep on the floor, his back would hurt. Besides, I wasn't that cruel. Maybe I really didn't think this through. Then again, he could've said no. He knew exactly what he was signing himself up for when I asked him he wanted to come to Kent, and he said yes.

Yep, great one Bella. Blame it on him.

I walk over opening the draw, ready to throw my makeup in it. There's purple packaging staring back at me. I'm mortified. What the fuck? The blood drains from my face and I slam the draw shut. Dimitri turns over his shoulder asking if everything is okay but I'm too horrified to speak.

What the hell Abuela. Why would she leave condoms in the draw? Unless they were hers but I doubt she would be getting her freak on at this age. They were for us. I groan, pinching my nose bridge. What on earth did she think we were going to do.

I leave the makeup on top instead vowing to never open the draw.

"Yo, what's up," he clearly sensed the distress on my face. I slowly meet his face, confused why his language has changed. He's gone from posh boy from Cambridge to roadman from East London. I heavily doubt he knew the ins and outs of the streets and people in the area.

"Yo? Don't yo me."

"I'll Yo whenever I want," he states, moving closer. I panic, "Nothing," I mutter, holding my hand out, trying to stop him.

He's not convinced, he's standing in front of me now. I'm suddenly backing up against the draw wanting to hide the incriminating evidence "Why are you doing that?" he's determined.

"Doing what?" I gulp. I shamelessly stare up at his face. He's forgotten to shave, a subtle scruff decorates his jaw. The blue in his eyes remind me balinese ocean waters. I've figured he's quite handsome up close and his lips–

"Move,"

"No," his hands snake around my waist, he's holding me now my heart pops to my throat.

"Move." he tells again. I'm suddenly deaf.

"I don't understand what you're saying,"

"You're acting suspicious." he narrows my eyes at me, scrutinizing me under the sun. His grip around my waist tightens, he pulls me towards him until our chests are touching. His lips are merely millimeters away from mine and the distant burning in his blue eyes are molton. I've fancied him determined, he won't let this go.

My chest is rising and falling erratically, his touching causing my brain to pause on and off. And just when I think I can't get closer. He's pushing me to the side. He opens the draw, looks inside and it only takes him a brief second to realise what he's gawking at. I expect him to react in the same way I did - stumble back mortified. Instead his lips curve and splutters back laughing. I'm redder than the sun.

"I promise you, they're not mine," I tell, hiding my face in my hands. So I'm freaking embarrassed.

It takes him a while to stop chuckling before he can conjure a sentence. "What, did Abuela leave them?" I slowly nod.

He's losing it even more now, laughing at the top of his lungs. "Bless her." He's wiping tears from his eyes, "She thought we were getting our freak on tonight,"

I have to pinch myself for the thought that passes through my head. Dimitri's got his shirt off, skin-to-skin contact, breathless moans, the room is growing hot. "Right, I'm leaving," I snap off the thought, scolding myself for it. I turn over my shoulder, darting for the bathroom with a change of clothes. I'm too morified to choke out a word.

He calls after me. "Awh, c'mon novia, we shouldn't waste these," He's taunting me, adding sweetheart for fashion. It's working because my cheeks redden much quicker.

"Go to hell Dimitri," I slam the door shut.

With a bathroom break, skincare tackled and clothes changed into pyjamas. I stand lost in the bathroom, wondering how to tackle the next situation. With somewhat of a mental plan prepared, I gently stalk out. He's already standing by the door and we exchange rooms as he goes in to get ready for bed.

Right, the bed. Guess we're sleeping together. I sit at the edge of the bed, debating how to sleep tonight. Do I sleep on the back tonight? Do I face the other way? Just when I feel like I'm getting somewhere, the door opens. Out steps Dimitri. He's busy tying the strings of his grey joggers and completely shirtless. I forget to breathe and my eyes involuntarily rake over his toned muscles. He spends his free time at the gym? It surprises me for a second because I thought he spent all his time at the office.

Despite that, he's built like a freaking greek god. With broad shoulders, tanned skin and standing at 6 feet, Dimitri Asterio's befriended the gym and protein is his toxic ex that he keeps running back too. His distracted gaze meets mine and I instantly look down at my feet. It's too late, I've already been caught. At that moment, I realised I don't need a husband. I need some tequila and sunshine after the image of him shirtless scorches the cervix of my mind.

"So," he begins. "Where am I sleeping?" his hand meets the back of his neck. He's clearly flustered and suddenly shy about this.

"Next to me. In the bed,"

He opens his mouth for a second, swiftly closes it. "Are you sure?"

I roll my eyes, already crawling to the left side and plotting myself in. "Yes, we're adults. We can sleep together and not make it awkward between us." I immediately bite my tongue as the sentence slips out.

"Yep. We can sleep together and not make it awkward between us," he repeats. Yet, I'm not so certain. Then the explicit thoughts flash through my mind again and I'm left hating myself. I sigh a breath as he walks over and switches the lights off. The lamps are on and there's still enough light for him to navigate his way. I feel the bed dip slightly with his weight before he slides in, covering himself with the duvet.

I place a pillow between us - a small border. He turns around, shaking his head. He's amused and unimpressed. It's late, I don't care. "What is this?"

"Precautions," It wasn't that I didn't trust him. I was trying to be careful. I usually sleep alone in my bed and what if I accidentally end up on his side?

"Precautions," he states back.

"It worked for North Korea, it can work for us too." I reach over, switching the light off. We're in darkness now.

"Which one am I?" A bloody arsehole, that's what he is.

"Definitely North," and I'm South. Opposite attract, right? He's already a dictator to his employees, no doubt about that.

"You know," he begins. I mentally brace myself, can he just shut up and sleep? "South is definitely going to need more than a pillow to keep North from invading."

"No, North and South have now decided they will keep the peace to shut up and sleep,"

Although I can't see him I can sense his megawatt smile. "Night Bella,"

"Night," is the last thing I say. I was hoping to stay awake for a little longer, so I could sneak downstairs and sleep on the sofa. I listen to the sound of his gentle breathing unaware that I've synced with him. Five minutes later, I'm dead to the world. That night I dream about conference rooms, diamond rings and divorce.