Page 49 of Ruthless Lord
“I just mean, you’re talking about sleeping in the same bed as…him.” Her voice lowers to a whisper on that last word. Her cheeks are scarlet now.
I barely control myself. “You think my husband is attractive, don’t you?”
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! That’s so inappropriate, isn’t it? I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just saying—” She suddenly shuts her mouth and covers it with her hands.
I crack up. It’s too funny, watching her squirm. But I decide to put her out of her misery after wiping the tears from my eyes. “Seriously, it’s fine. I was trying to say, we have a deal whereStefano promised he won’t touch me. And last night he didn’t even try to cross that line. There won’t be anythingintimateto tell you, not unless I want there to be, and I’m not really sure he and I will have that kind of relationship.”
I neglect to mention the first night I met Stefano and the casual spanking on our wedding night. I think Emily’s poor head might explode if she knew.
“That’s good,” she says with a long sigh. “I mean, have whatever relationship with him you want. Obviously, he’s your husband, and he’sgorgeous.” She’s nervously tugging at her hair. “But I’m just saying, I know he made you this deal or whatever, but I want to make sure you’re reallysafe.”
“Thank you,” I say, genuinely touched and feeling a little guilty for teasing her. “But for whatever reason, I think he’s an honest man. That’s why he’s so terrifying, right? He is what he is and he doesn’t try to hide it. I believe it when he says he’ll never touch me unless I ask him to.”
“If you ever feel unsafe, or if you ever need help, you can call me. You know, not as a personal assistant or whatever, but as a friend.” She looks up, grimacing a little, and quickly adds, “If you want, obviously, I don’t mean to overstep anything.”
I walk over to her and pull her into a tight hug. She seems surprised but quickly hugs me back. “I’d really like that,” I say, squeezing. “The friend part.”
“Me too.” She laughs lightly. “Are we official now?”
“I’ll change my Facebook profile.”
“Perfect. We’re having dinner with my parents tomorrow. They can’t wait to meet you.”
The tension fades away as we finish the last of the downstairs unpacking. Emily talks more about her family back in Pittsburgh, about her dad working for a fracking company and her brothers both still living at home even though they’re way too old now, and I’m amazed at how quickly I’m getting comfortable with her.
Most people treat me like I’m diseased. The second they learn my last name, it’s like I’m not a person anymore. I become an avatar for what theWestbrooksare. I’m treated like a brand.
But Emily’s got a strange kind of forthcoming confidence. She talks and talks without really caring how it comes off. It’s just pure honesty. Whatever pops into her head, she blurts it out and doesn’t seem to care what I think about it. Which is insanely refreshing.
I can’t remember the last time I made a new friend.
She’s also my employee. I’m aware of how that complicates our relationship. But for now, I just want to enjoy having someone in my life who only cares about my well-being and not what sort of social connections I can give to them.
“I’m pretty sure there’s not enough closet space in here,” she says, frowning at the piles of dresses.
“You were optimistic when we were packing.”
“I’m a glass three-quarters full kind of gal.”
“Isn’t it half full?”
“Not if you believe hard enough.” She chews on a nail. “Well, nothing for it. We’ll have to get rid of your husband’s stuff.”
“I’m pretty sure he won’t like that.”
“Either that or you can take over a spare room.”
I snap a finger and point at her. “That’s the solution.”
“Or you could movehimthere.” Her eyebrows raise. “Since you’ll need to keep all your stuff together, right?”
“You’re devious.”
“Only offering pragmatic solutions to this space problem.”
I’m seriously considering pulling all of Stefano’s suits out and dumping them on the spare bed when the door opens and closes. There are footsteps downstairs, and Emily quickly busies herself folding some of my tops and putting them into drawers as I stand at the top of the stairs.
“Darling, is that you?”
