Page 48 of One Wealthy Wedding

“Catherine.” I greet her the next morning, where she has her head buried in the fridge. I almost regret startling her. Better to let her bend over with that delicious, bitable ass in the air. “There’s still no food. Don’t bother.”

“I bought some,” she mutters from the depths. “Did you eat it?” She leans back to glare at me. Every time she gives me those narrowed eyes, I want to do more of whatever is annoying her.

“I don’t need food to live,” I say with a yawn. “I’ve risen above.” I stretch my arms over my head, my workout shirt riding up.

Her eyes go to my stomach. Just like they did last night. I’m getting to her and I’m sure as hell not stopping now. Not when I’m having so much fun, and not when she tastes so delicious.

“Like what you see?” I grin at her. “I can take it off if you want. Improve the view.”

“No, thank you,” she says primly, her cheeks red.

“Move over,” I grunt at her. “I’ll cook, but I want you to tell me something in exchange.”

She fiddles with the ties on her shorts. “Fine.” She sighs. “But only what we need to sell this marriage.”

She’s so prickly. I nearly laugh, but I know she’ll be irritated. “Sit,” I say instead. I stare into the depths of the fridge. “You like kale?”

“For breakfast?”

I really need to get groceries. I resolve to do that later, maybe with George’s help. There has to be a grocery store near the office, right?

“Caviar and eggs it is.”

“Caviar,” she chokes out. “You just keep it on hand?”

“Of course. Don’t you?” I cock a brow at her.

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

“No studying this morning?” Just a small question, to warm her up, get her talking. I’m going to figure you out, princess.

“Oh no. I have my books right here.” She points at the stool, where her school bag is neatly packed.

“Show me what you’re working on.”

She heaves a sigh. “Valuations. I hate valuations. It’s the biggest part of my Corporate Finance class this semester.”

“That was my favorite.”

“Really?” She sounds skeptical, and I tense. “I would have assumed you were more in it for the networking.”

“That’s what most people assume,” I say tightly. Just a pretty face and an empty head, that’s me. I crack an egg against the counter with a satisfying thwack. The yolk breaks. Fuck. I toss it.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“That I’m a ne’er-do-well? A libertine? A playboy only here for a good time, not for a long time?” I let the eggs sizzle. “You’ve thought it, right?” I turn to her, arms crossed over my chest.

“I’m not going to lie to you.” Her cheeks are pink. “I mean, I’ve seen the photos. I assumed you didn’t care. It seems like you cultivated that reputation is all.”

“Better to be notorious than a nobody, I guess.” I shrug. “You’re spot on. You know me so well.”

“You’re the one with your nude torso splashed across the tabloids,” she retorts. “You’re the one with a new woman every night. It’s not like we talked for ten years. How would I know any better? What the hell was I supposed to think?”

That I’m better than that. My lungs constrict.

I grab plates and serve us with sharp movements, then drop into the chair across from her.

She looks at me with wary eyes. “I’m sorry, Th—”

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