Page 72 of A Forgotten Promise

He raises his eyebrow, deadpan.

I snatch the spoon from him and resume eating. “I thought you were working from home? Since when is feeding your fiancée in your job description?”

“Since she keeps almost fainting near me.”

“It happened once.”

“Twice.”

His phone rings, and he taps the earbud in his ear. “Yes.” He doesn’t move from me, just mouths ‘eat’.

I roll my eyes and finish my breakfast, with him standing so close that my body shivers while my heart gallops.

He barks at someone on the phone. And a completely surprising feeling grabs me. I envy him.

I’m jealous that he has a job, a purpose, an agenda… a life that is put together. I finish eating and slide from the stool, taking my dishes to the dishwasher.

Corm listens to the person on the other side, but his gaze is firmly on me. It’s unnerving and comforting at the same time.

I pour myself a coffee and head for the entrance to sneak out.

“Lunch is in three hours.”

I stop. Did he say that to me? Or is he still on the phone?

Turning, I collide with him. Is he a panther now? How did he creep up behind me? And again, I’m against his solid body which, as history taught me, robs me of my resolution or free will.

“What?”

“We’ll eat here, since the dining room is… nausea-inducing.” He towers over me.

I don’t understand what is going on this morning. He’s his usual aloof asshole, but exhibits intentions of care.

“Have you stayed home to babysit me?”

His jaw tenses as he studies me through hooded eyes. We stand there in yet another silent duel.

And again, my vital functions go haywire—I can’t get enough oxygen, my stomach is fluttering and churning at the same time, my heart is thumping in my temples, and goose bumps and sweat dust my skin.

A full-blown arousal mingled with anxiety. The worst possible combination. Corm Quinn elicits the weirdest cocktail of emotions in me.

“I have a conference call to prepare for.”

He pushes past me and storms toward his office, leaving me there, staring into the empty space for I don’t know how long.

“Let’s go.” Corm pokes his head through the opening in the sliding door.

I have been enjoying the silence on the outdoor patio. A fire-pit coffee table surrounded by lounge chairs softens the large, cold, tiled rectangle. Several large potted plants lining the corners augment the cozy feel.

It’s only five in the morning, but I couldn’t sleep, and this place is my favorite part of the house.

Sitting here always calms me.

Perhaps it’s because this part of the house’s exterior is the first peaceful place in my life. I haven’t had a space like this before. Definitely not at home growing up.

Not in the student home at my Swiss school, and never while I was working, despite owning two apartments in Europe.

I can’t possibly imagine Corm spending time here. It’s filled with fresh air and harmony, unlike his stifling mercurial personality.

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