Page 35 of Sinful Like Us
I grab onto words that flit past my brain. “You still have time to decide, Moffy.”
“Yeah.” He nods, focusing back on us.
Thatcher threads his arms. “Have you two picked a date yet?”
Last I heard, they were still up in the air.
Maximoff rotates his stiff shoulder. “Farrow has always wanted a winter wedding, so we’re thinking a couple years from now. It gives us time for this.” He gestures to the binder.
I tell him, “I can simplify for you.”
“He’ll need that,” Farrow teases.
Maximoff groans. “You’ll need that more than me.”
He smiles with the tilt of his head. “You can think that all you want, wolf scout.”
Before I close the binder, we talk a little more about vendors, and then we land on the topic of the upcoming trip to scout a wedding location.
“Hawaii?” I repeat the fake destination as Maximoff stealthily shows me his phone screen with the real location.
Scotland.
Behind me, Thatcher and Banks lean forward and see the country’s name too. A winter retreat in the Scottish Highlands with my boyfriend—I take a breath and smile. Brimming with excitement, I rock back on my heels and collide into Thatcher’s hard chest with athud.
I freeze.
This is all allowed, Jane.We’re together, and the security team doesn’t have to sign off on our public interactions as part of a ploy anymore.
He clutches my hips, and my lungs expand. While I lean against his body, I weave my arms behind him and slide my hand down his back pocket.
His peach-perfect ass is all mine.
Maximoff sends me a confused look. “I thought you were sad about leaving him during the trip.”
I crane my neck up at the Moretti brothers. “Do you want to tell them or shall I?”
“You,” they say.
Banks curses under his breath as they speak at the same time again. And quietly, I unleash the twin swap plan. By the end, Farrow is grinning so wide that his smile reaches cheek-to-cheek.
“Just say it,” Thatcher cuts in.
“You like breaking the rules for her,” Farrow tells him matter-of-factly.
Thatcher looks only at me, and my heart swells. No man has ever made me feel like a rare beauty worthy of sacrifice. He’s never sought after my fame or fortune.
He’s just sought after me.
I open my mouth to speak. “I—”
A drunken foolplowsinto my boyfriend’s back.
“Merde,” I curse.
Thatcher hardly sways. He’s quick to take my hand out of his pocket, to pull my arms safely in front of me, and just as the fool barrels into him with purposeagain, Thatcher swerves onto this twenty-something man and shoves his chest. Like the violent rip of caution tape, the packed bodies explode with rowdy, hostile force.
Pushing.
