Page 42 of The Christmas Wife

"What’s gotten into you?" I growl. Now I’m doing the fucking NLP mirroring shit Buttercup had talked about.Why the hell amI thinking about her, huh? Didn’t I come here to get away from her? Huh? Had she actually pushed me out of my own space?I scratch my jaw. Now, that would be the first.

"Uh-oh." Damian clicks his tongue, "I’ve seen that look before."

"What bloody look?" I frown.

"The one that says you’re about to fall."

"Fall?"

"For her."

"Who?"

"The woman who’s there in the country manor?—"

"Cabin," I correct him.

"Whatever." He grins, "Admit it. You’re attracted to her.’

"What shit are you talking about?" I grumble.

"You denying you hooked up with a woman in a difficult-to-reach place?"

"It’s four hours away from London."

"My point exactly," he smirks.

"You city fox."

"So are you," he replies, "which is why, when Saint mentioned that you were going to be there, and not alone..."

"Hold on." I rub my temple, "Saint told you I was going to be here with a woman?’

"Aren’t you?"

"That’s not the point." I tilt my head, "How did he know that I was here…ah!" I stiffen. "That cunt," I growl. "He fucking played me, didn’t he?"

"Hold on, I'm adding Arpad to the call," Damian says.

"What? No," I protest.

Too late. The screen blinks, then Arpad appears in another window. "Hey, bitches, you’re chin-wagging like old ladies, I see."

"Hey, fuckface," I growl, "why aren’t you in a boat in the middle of somewhere with no reception?"

"I have my own satellite, dickwad."

"Of course, you do." I rake my fingers through my hair. "Why are you guys calling me, anyway?"

"Checking in, ol’ chap." Damian chuckles, "Making sure you’re still alive after that face-off."

What face-off?

"You and Amelie…?" Damian prompts.

"What is it with you guys?" I crack my jaw from side to side, "Can’t you give a man space?"

"Space?" Arpad cackles, "Did he just say what I think he did?"

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