Page 56 of Bottles & Blades

Marie is staring blatantly, mouth curved up, and I know I’m going to be having a long conversation later.

Fun.

“You don’t have to apologize for needing to work,” she says quietly as I nudge her toward one of the comfortable chairs positioned by the window, a small round table next to it. “Plus”—she reaches into her purse, pulls out a stack of index cards—“I have things to keep me busy.”

I touch her cheek. “I’ll have someone bring you in something to eat.”

“You don’t have?—”

I cup her jaw. “I’llhavesomeone bring you something to eat.”

She sighs. But her eyes are soft and filled with amusement when she covers my hand with her own. “More orders.” A beat. “But thank you.”

“Anytime, baby.”

I start for the door.

“I know your meeting’s important,” she says softly and I pause, look back. “If you need me to go, I can.”

Christ, there’s that pang in my heart again.

“Don’t be sweet, buttercup.”

Her brows drag together. “Why?”

“Because when you’re sweet I have to kiss you, and when I kiss you I stop thinking about business and negotiating with asshole landlords who are trying to fuck with one of my distributors.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, cheeks going the slightest bit pink.

Fuck, I’m going to miss that when she gets more comfortable with me.

I guess I’ll just have to come up with other ways to make her blush.

“Plus, knowing you’re here, waiting for me, being so sweet—it’s going to keep me going through what’s certain to be a lesson in frustration.”

She sets the stack of cards down, pushes up to her feet.

There’s only the slightest bit of hesitation as she comes near, just before she settles her hand on my chest. Then she lifts on tiptoe, presses her lips to my jaw, murmuring, “I’ll be waiting.”

It takes everything in me to not turn my head, to keep perfectly still as she drops back onto her heels and returns to the chair, but I manage it, manage to force my feet to move, to take me out of my office and down the hall to where Marie is waiting.

“Not a fucking word,” I mutter.

“Oh, I have words,” she says, passing me a tablet, “so many words it’s not even funny. They’ll just have to wait until after this meeting. The report is on there, but this”—she tugs on my arm, drawing me to a halt—“this just came in from Pascal’s team.”

I stare down at the phone screen she’s pointed in my direction.

And I feel my rage boiling.

“We have another option?”

“The lease wording sucks. She went through her own attorney and they missed this.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup. We pay to break the lease or keep paying rent.”

“So, there are no options then. Because I’m not paying this fucker forthat.”I jerk my chin at the phone.

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