Page 17 of Bride Bargain

Why do I always do that? Why am I always so hot-headed; the unreasonable one in our duo? I’m not like that with anyone else. It’s like my emotions flood higher in response to Elliot’s unflappable calm, like I need to feel enough turbulence for the both of us.

Or maybe I reallyama hormonal ragbag.

“Come on,” I mutter, squeezing the phone so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack into pieces in my hand. “Come on, Elliot. Pick up.”

Is he okay?

Oh god. Where is he?

He should have slept here last night. It’s his freaking apartment! If he didn’t want me near,Ishould have been the one to go. I’ve got the keys to my crappy rental until the end of the month.

The phone purrs on.

And… Elliot hardly ever answers his phone. He says that’s whole point of being the boss—getting to skip all that bullshit and stay out of reach.

But he always, always picks up for me.

For a long, sickly moment, clutching my phone and breathing hard, it seems like that special treatment might be over. I’ve finally pushed Elliot too hard and been relegated to his voicemail with the other nuisance calls.

Then the phone clicks, and Elliot’s deep voice rumbles in my ear.

“Claire? Are you alright?”

I splutter, whipping the phone away and staring at his name on the screen. Relief shakes my knees, then panic rises again. Am Ialright? Is he insane?

“You were gone,” I say stupidly, cramming the phone back by my ear. “I woke up and—you were gone. I was worried. Where are you?”

There’s a long pause, then Elliot’s sigh crackles down the line. “I’m at the office, Claire.”

He’s at work?Now? Doesn’t he care that we fought? Has he even noticed?

Last night, this man spread my thighs open and knelt before me like he was worshiping at an altar. His hungry sounds vibrated through my nerve endings and made my clit tingle; his ring finger breached my virgin pussy and pumped deep inside. Heclaimedme.

Now paper rustles at the other end of the phone, like I’m keeping Elliot from some pressing admin.

“Come here once you’ve eaten breakfast,” he orders, in full boss mode. My insides churn, and I want to wail that we were nearly so much more—before I blew it. Elliot’s ring has never felt heavier on my finger, and I squeeze my fist tight until the metal digs at bone. “I have something to show you.”

Unless it’s his cock, I don’t want to see it.

But even I can’t say that to the boss.

* * *

Forget breakfast. Forget brushing my hair or dressing in work clothes. I scrub my teeth, aim some deodorant at my armpits, then blindly throw on a stripy t-shirt and pair of holey jeans and jog for the door.

It’s rainingagainwhen I reach the lobby—this city, I swear to god—but my heart’s beating too fast for me to wait calmly fora car.

“Miss—” the doorman blurts, barely yanking the door open in time as I clatter past. “Let me call you a cab!”

Too late. I’m already sprinting down the sidewalk, dodging dog walkers and roasted nut vendors and tourists shuffling along in groups, prodding at glossy sightseeing maps. They all glance up under their umbrellas as I charge past, my unbrushed hair wild and my raggedy clothes soaking through with rain. They gape at me, but I don’t care.

Need Elliot.

Need to find my husband, shake his stupid broad shoulders, then sink to my knees and beg for another chance.

This time, I won’t pick fights over nothing.

This time, I won’t lash out because I’m scared and this is all so new.

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