Page 24 of Dirty Husband
"Jasmine." He says my name like it's his favorite car. Something he adores. A possession he adores. "Please. Sit. We have a lot to discuss." He nods to Lock.
Lock understands immediately. "I'll leave you to it." He bows and moves along the sleek hardwood, through the hallway, down the spiral staircase.
This place is beautiful. Modern and antique. Like an updated castle. I didn't believe Lock at first. I didn't believe Shep would live somewhere with quaint charm. But he does.
"Would you like something to drink?" He motions to the gold tray sitting on the table. The two espresso cups, both filled with dark liquid.
"Are you going to make it?" It's hard to picture Shepard fixing his own tea. The man has a driver, for goodness' sake. When was the last time he thought about boiling water?
"I can call Lock, if you think he'll do a better job."
"He is English."
"I prepared something for you."
"You personally?"
"I arranged for it." He picks up his espresso cup. Takes a sip. "I never could bake."
"Or cook."
He just barely smiles. "It's important to know your strengths and weaknesses."
"And your enemies?"
"Yes." His voice is matter-of-fact. Like it's oh, so obvious. Like everyone knows. "You still prefer oolong?"
"Anything is fine."
"Do you?" His voice drops a little lower. Gets a little harder.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." Shep places his ceramic cup on the tray. Then he closes the space between us. Rests his palm on my wrist. "I know this isn't what you want, Jasmine. It's not an ideal circumstance for me either."
That should make things clearer, but it doesn't. Why would he ask me to marry him—pay me an outrageous sum to marry him—if it's not what he wants?
I stare into his eyes, trying to find his meaning, but they're still so deep and impenetrable.
How can they be such a clear blue when his intention is so murky?
God, his eyes are gorgeous. I want to get lost in them. To watch them fill with joy, pleasure, demand.
You're going to beg for my cock.
I swallow hard. "You're going to fix our awkward circumstance with tea?"
"I know I can't fillallyour needs. But you are going to be my wife. I am going to take care of you."
"Tea isn't true love."
"Not what Mom would say."
My heart aches for him. And for myself. We both know what it's like, losing a mother young, struggling to pick up the pieces. "What would Olivia say?" I knew his mom for a while. She was an amazing woman. Even when she was ill, she was full of life. An artist who saw the good in everything.
"Jasmine?" His voice softens as he runs his thumb over my forearm.
The touch is comforting. Too comforting. And too familiar. He's a different person now.
