Page 114 of Howl You Doin?
I groan and move to get out of the bed, my lips curling up when Connor’s strong arms around my middle try to keep me in it. He rolls in his sleep and drapes an arm and leg over my body, pinning me to the bed, his breath chuffing lightly in my ear.
“I have to pee,” I whisper, hoping I truly haven’t woken him up.
He grumbles but lets me go.
I do my business and make my way back into the bedroom, bending and twisting, astonished at how I’m not really sore. I yawn and cover my mouth, checking the time on the nearby clock—almost one p.m. I was pinned on his big dick until dawn, so there’s no surprise it’s so late.
The red gleam of the flashing fax light catches my attention again.
Crap.
I suppose I should check just in case it’s important. How should I know when business tycoons are meant to get stuff?
Shock and confusion collide when I spot my name in bold letters on the top page and my brows come together even tighter when I see it attached to a deed of sale.
What is this?
Connor emits a soft snore, and I flinch, immediately chiding myself when I do. I shouldn’t be going through his personal stuff, but my name is there, clear to see, so it’s not wrong to go through it. Right?
I flip to the next page and splutter.
My eyes bulge.
A bill of sale for The Marionette, my grandmother’s old bakery, signed over to one Whitley Whitt. The Marionette is mine? My lips part, and I read it again.
I tear through the pages until I get to the one that looks most official, along with a note. Bill of Sale from Fortescue and Sons—to me. The Marionette and all property therein... deed of purchase.
The words melt away as tears fill my eyes and overflow, spilling down my cheeks as I cry.
“Come to bed,” Connor says, his voice all warm and sleepy.
I touch my cheeks and rub away the tears on my face.
A smile spreads even as I cry with joy. This impossible man. I barely told him anything about the location of the bakery at all, and I wonder how long it took him to hunt down which one it was. I own the Marionette, and all I want to do is dive back into bed with him and never leave his castle again. I bite my lip.
He must have started this a while ago if he’s just getting the official paperwork now.
“Whitley?” he grumbles, and I move to put the paper back on the fax machine.
“I’m here.” I want to always be here.
As soon as I’m within reaching distance, I grin and wait for it. Sure enough, before I can take my next breath, strong arms band around me and pull me across the blue sheets to his chest.
The man can never let me sleep alone. Even when we were frenemies, he had to be touching me, and now I wouldn’t want anything else. It’s odd how all I ever wanted was the bakery, so I would feel like I had family again, but all I really needed were his arms around me.
I lie there for a long moment, his chin atop my head, listening to his breathing mellow into a deep sleep. My phone pings, vibrating from the nightstand just as my eyes are shutting.
I frown and stretch to retrieve it.
An unknown number shows on the screen with a message:
Unknown:
Meet me in the parlor room.
Me:
Who is this?
