Page 23 of Accidental Vegas Vows

“You’ll need to prepare,” she said, her laughter dying down and being replaced with a grin. “A bed, some toys, clothes, that kind of stuff. Your house isn’t exactly child-friendly, either. And you’ll need someone to watch him. I can occasionally, as long as Lucas doesn’t kick up a fuss about it.”

Fuck. I hadn’t thought of any of that, either.

I wasn’t used to children. It wasn’t that I didn’t necessarily want one — I just hadn’t even gotten to that point with anyone where I was seriously considering it, except for Marissa. Even then, we had never gone too far into detail, just idealistic imaginings of what our life would look like if we had gotten married. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, and that covered everything as far as I was concerned.

But I didn’t have that.

Briefly, so quickly that I caught the thought and shoved it back into its locked little box, I wondered if my wife would be willing to watch him. But Olivia was only my wife on paper, and putting that responsibility on someone so eager to further herself professionally felt like an insult when she desperately wanted out of our situation.

I couldn’t consider it. Wouldn’t. Shouldn’t.

————

The lobby of Blackwood Energy Solutions was clearing out as the workday came to a close. It was nearing six in the evening, and those who had stayed late were the last to leave, including myself.

Coming down the elevator, I couldn’t help but notice the small group of interns huddled in the center of the room, their lanyards giving them away. A handful clocked me and dispersed, scurrying toward the exit as if I were a fucking wolf, but four of them stayed — one head of chestnut hair in particular not even caring to look across the room as my feet touched down on the poured cement floor.

Olivia stood beside a man a couple of inches taller than her, her waves flowing over each shoulder as she played with the ends. Despite the black slacks, black heels, and tucked-in, white button-up, it felt like every inch of her was showing, like she was tempting me.

Like she was tempting him.

He grinned down at her, his blonde curls hanging around his cheeks. His lips moved but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. I moved closer, nearly crashing into John from accounting but sidestepping him at the last possible second.

“Maybe dinner, or a movie?”

I paused.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I mean maybe,” Olivia said, her voice a little quivery. “I’m really busy lately but?—”

“You can make time,” he drawled. His tongue glided across his upper teeth as he leaned in a little, one hand pushing a hanging chestnut wave behind her ear. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to worry about keeping on top of things. Unless it’s me.”

I moved before I’d even decided to.

Coming up behind her and grabbing her by the wrist, I tugged her back half a step, nearly sending her careening into my chest. “Ms. Martin,” I hissed.

She spun on a dime, her cheeks heating and coating her face in a deep pink. “I was having a conversation.”

“One that seemed wholly inappropriate for the office,” I snapped, shooting a glare over her shoulder at the man she’d been speaking to. His name tag read Charles Stipender, and I nearly cringed at the idea of her going out with a man with that silly of a name.

“Like you care about inappropriate conversations here,” she seethed, her voice low enough that only I’d hear it.

She had a point.

“As far as I was aware, the workday ended an hour ago,” she added, her brows knitting as she glared up at me. But behind her, Charles was already retreating, heading straight for the revolving door at the entrance. “I can speak to whoever I want.”

Her plump, tinted red lips pursed, and instantly, I was back in the restaurant at the Bellagio, those same lips closing over my thumb, her eyes batting up at me as if it was the most innocent thing she could have possibly done.

Fuck, I wanted her.

Screw what Caroline said.

“Fine. Speak to who you want. But there are some things we need to discuss, privately,” I said, tightening my hold on her wrist. She didn’t even fight it.

“Now?” she asked, her eyes widening as she glanced around at the few people still nearby. “Can we go up to your off?—”

“No. Come to my house tonight.” I let her go, taking a brief step back before we could draw too much suspicion from wandering eyes. “We’ve got paperwork to go over.”

She studied me, her mouth parting, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my lips. “That feels like a trap.”

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