Page 150 of Never Fall for an Angel

He takes the papers, folding them over one by one for me to sign. He glances at Christian a few times, and I realize he’s scared of him.

Or he really has to use the bathroom.

Either way, he’s nervous about something, though I can’t tell what.

“Is there a problem?”

“Nope,” he says cheerfully. “None at all. Lots to do today.”

I continue singing my name until I feel like my hand is going to fall off, and just when I’m about to tell him I don’t want to sign anymore, the stack ends, and he tugs it away from me like it’s on fire.

“All finished. I’ve got everything I need.”

“That was easy,” I murmur. “I guess.”

“You should be free to go.”

When we’re done, Christian leads me out to the Bentley, that damned hand coming resting on the small of my back, only this time, I feel his thumb slip along my spine and a shiver ghosts through me.

He’s doing that on purpose. No one’s that sexually attractive without trying to be.

“I can’t believe all the paperwork he made me fill out,” I complain when Christian falls into the driver’s seat beside me. “And then he rushed us out like the building was on fire. And why was he so sweaty?”

“Mila?”

“What?” I snap, turning my gaze on Christian.

Instead of a response, he just takes my face in his hands, kissing me so intensely, I feel like the world tilts on its axis.

Every thought I’d had flies right out the window, along with any dignity I had left. His lips linger against mine, and when he pulls away, his stare is so dark, it sucks the air right out of the Bentley.

This man is dangerous with a kiss like that.

“Just shut the hell up.”

When Christian said his family owned a lodge, I didn’t know it would be the size of Manhattan. The main lodge itself sits atop a cliff, overlooking the forest-covered valley below like a silent stone protector.

The Oak Ridge Lodge is a fortress nestled amongst the tall Washington Pines of the Mount Baker National Forest. With three hundred and something rooms—I zoned out when Collin was telling me exactly how many— and multiple buildings, it’s easy to understand that I got lost on my first day, post-Christian’s departure.

—And my second.

—And maybe my third.

Fortunately, Paulina found me, gently escorting me towards the kitchen in the “family lodge” where we’re staying, though it would be better described as a mini-palace, complete with its own hot tub and chef named Javier who makes the best scrambled eggs I’ve ever tasted.

“You’re going to make me gain weight,” I grumble to Paulina when she sets a mounded plate of bacon and eggs in front of me on the first day.

“Men like a little meat on the bones,” she explains with a coy wink. “Makes things softer.”

I close my eyes, willing that mental picture away because, honestly, I’m not sure I’m mentally strong enough to handle it right now.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

On the second day, Paulina put me to work, sorting through an obscene amount of new clothes that Christian had apparently had delivered for me.

Asshole. As if I could be bought.

Still, I didn’t mind because it gave me something to do besides stare into the abyss and wonder if I was a widow or just the reluctant wife who’d been pushed aside.

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