Page 44 of The Re-Proposal

Her scowl falters, but she quickly picks it back up again.

Before she can spit more angry words from that delectable mouth, the door creaks open and an older woman sashays in. She’s carrying two trays and her voice has a cheerful beat when she says, “Hello, hello!”

“Thisisn’tover,” Clarissa says, jamming a finger in my direction. Turning to face the woman, she chirps, “Erica.”

“Hi, Rissi.”

“Rissi?” I smirk, glancing in Clarissa’s direction.

“Don’t even think of calling me that,” she hisses. To the woman, she says in a wooden tone, “Did you bring more goodies for us?”

“Yes. I was whipping some things up in the kitchen and then I got to wondering—why don’t we use ketchup in brownies? I mean, what’s better than eating chocolate after pasta? It’s practically gourmet!”

Clarissa’s smile fractures. “Did you say… ketchup?”

“Yes.” Erica sets a tray on top of a kiosk and rakes back the cloth. “Tada!”

Nestled inside are brownies that smell absolutely foul.

“Go ahead. Try one.” Erica looks behind Clarissa to me. “You too, handsome.”

Clarissa’s smile is positively evil. “Yeah, Cody. Try one.”

“I’m actually lactose intolerant.” I touch my stomach.

“These don’t have any milk or butter!” Erica declares.

I throw up a little in my mouth.

“Go on.” Clarissa tilts her head coquettishly.

Like a gift from God, my phone rings.

I sweep it out of my pocket. “Gotta take this.”

Clarissa hits me with a dark look of betrayal.

I hold her stare and lift my chin smugly as I answer Vargas’s call. “What?”

“I got your solution. I’m bringing him to the office. Can you meet me there now?”

“I’m busy,” I say, watching Clarissa try to find an excuse that’ll keep her from eating the brownies.

“This is important, Bolton. It can’t wait.”

“Then meet me here,” I say. I’m not leaving this place. Not yet. I’m having more fun in the five minutes I’ve spent with Clarissa than I have all year.

I type something quickly and press send. “There. You’ve got my location.”

“Bolton—”

I hang up and swing my attention back to Clarissa. Ms. Phoebe has wandered out of her office and joined the other women.

Clarissa is already nibbling on a piece of those cursed brownies.

“Well?” Erica clasps her hands together and leans in.

“It’s… different.”

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