Page 77 of Morally Black Betrothal
I had no idea who that was, but I’d take it just to get out of this dogfight. “Apparently, I have a meeting.”
“How fucking convenient,” Owen muttered.
“How much you want to bet that ‘visitor’ is his own hand?” Ronan asked Shea and Liam, who couldn’t hide their chuckles.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Ruth. “Who is it?”
“It’s your…fiancée, sir.”
Simone washere?
“A little afternoon delight, huh?” Ronan started lewdly jerking his hips while imitating porn music.
“Miss Bishop is waiting in your office,” Ruth pressed. “She seems…distressed.”
I frowned. Distressed? Something in my chest tightened. “Did you take care of everything I asked earlier?”
Impervious to the crude pantomiming going on behind me, she nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll retrieve the envelope from my desk and bring it to your office.”
“Hey, make sure you don’t get jizz on the couch,” Ronan called as we left. “I like to sit there sometimes. Drink my morning joe. Contemplate the meaning of life and all that shit.”
“You’re a prick, Ronan,” I replied over my shoulder.
“I love you, too!” he shouted just before the door swung closed.
18
SHOULDN’T THIS COME WITH MAKE-UP SEX?
Brendan
The scent of lilacs and baked goods curled around my nose the moment I walked into my office.
Simone was there, pacing back and forth in front of my desk. At the sight of her, my body felt lighter, like an invisible weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
Home.
There was that word again, foreign and unbidden.
Would it always be like this every time I saw her?
How could I make it stop?
Did I even want to?
Her hair was down today, the first time I’d seen her wear it like that. It was longer than I’d thought, almost to her waist, hanging in loose golden waves that bounced as she walked. It was so pretty, I was momentarily distracted from the fact that she was wearing yet another pair of scrubs.
This time, the sunglasses-wearing fruits were strawberries.
I frowned. At this point, the scrubs were fucking offensive. It was like dressing a Greek goddess in toilet paper. “Simone.”
At the sound of my voice, she spun and lost her balance. I rushed forward to catch her, and my hands curved around her tight waist like our two parts had been molded from each other.
My eyes dropped to those lips.
Would it hurt to kiss her again?
We were technically engaged. There was an audience outside the door. Assistants, interns, and accountants were watching us, which meant it fell firmly within the contract terms covering public displays of affection.
