Page 62 of Bona Fide

“Only toward one female in particular, but I believe she’s forgotten all about me and New Year’s.”

“I haven’t forgotten a thing,” she retorts with a perked brow. “Someone forgot to finish with me.”

“And someone forgot what I said about not sharing.”

“Noted.” She crosses her legs then notices after a split second that I’m not fucking around. “I’m assuming you’re still waiting for an answer?”

“I am.”

“Life sucks,” she deadpans.

“So do your lips, Shelton. Wanna finish me off?” Her pupils expand slightly, but she stays grounded to the chair.

“Cute.”

“Come here,” I order, crooking my finger. “I have something for you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Her hands clasp the arms of my chair.

I roll my eyes. “Not that.”

“What is it?” I open up a drawer to my desk and pull out a manila envelope before rising from my chair.

Rounding the piece of furniture between us, I hand it over to her, propping my ass on the edge of the desk. “Your contract.”

“Are you finally going to let me rip it up?” she asks, staring at it.

“Cute.”

She pulls her gaze up. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“It’s another year to sign up on my team. To rebuild what we had and—” She jolts from her chair so fast that I actually lean back so she doesn’t hit me in the balls with a body part.

“We don’t have anything,” she snaps. “New Year’s, that was just because I needed to get off. I didn’t sleep with you to add on to the contract.”

“Never said you did,” I retort. “But I did say that I loved you.” Her nostrils flare before her eyes narrow in on me. Definitely not the reaction I want but not surprising nonetheless.

“It doesn’t mean shit.”

Now my features match hers, except I’m about to show how much it means fucking shit.

“So we’re still on that fucking kick, huh?” I step in her direction, and she quickly counters it.

“You still have a wife?”

“Nope.”

“Bullshit.”

“It wouldn’t be if you’d let me tell you everything that she did. Every single hurdle and—”

“That’s your problem, Governor,” she chides. “You should’ve divorced the bitch.”

“Don’t start judging me until you know all the facts, Shelton. You don’t know the timeline, how much shit she—” Reagan throws her hand in the air, making the folder fly somewhere in the room, and rounds on her heels to leave the room.

I’m on her just as quick, spinning her around to face me.

“Do you think I just love anyone?” I fume. “They say I have as much personality as a stone in the press.” Reagan rips herself out of my grasp and begins for the door again.

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