Page 117 of Matchmaking the CEO

"Carmen did call me on a Sunday," she pointed out.

"True."

She clicked Answer and put it to her ear. "Natalie here." The color drained from her face the next second. "Vince, I don't want you calling me. No, fuck you."

I was instantly on alert. "Give me the phone."

She hesitated.

"Natalie!"

She handed it to me the next second.

"Listen, fucker,” I growled.

“Who's this?” the asshole asked.

I didn’t bother answering him. “Don't call her number again. Ever. Or I'll make you very sorry."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" The little twerp tried to sound tough.

"Someone you should not mess with. She's not alone, you know? I've got her back."

He hung up.

"What did he want?" I asked Natalie.

"I don't know. He didn't get a chance to tell me. He was too busy insulting me."

"Natalie—”

"Let's forget about him, okay? I don't want him to ruin our day."

"You can't sweep this under the rug."

"I'm not. But eventually he'll get bored and stop." She laughed humorlessly. "I bet you wish you were in Martha's Vineyard right about now, huh?"

"No chance in hell." Putting the phone down, I cupped her face, and then I moved my hands down, pushing her up by her ass. "If I went away, I couldn't do this." I took her up in my arms.

She smiled, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I see."

"I'm right where I need to be," I assured her, kissing her again and then going down the column of her neck. "Right here."

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