Page 52 of Indigo

I lift my head and dart my eyes back to the hallway.

Maybe there’s a reason he hasn’t mentioned anything, or so much as touched on the subject.

I let myself stew on the possibilities for another five minutes, and just as I’m about to barge my way down to his office and find out what’s going on in there for myself, a customer comes in with a query, stopping me from letting my jealousy get the better of me.

When I’m finished,shestill hasn’t come out, and something in my brain just snaps.

I stomp my way down the hallway, take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever I’m about to walk in on, and then the door to Pax’s office opens.

Shecomes out, pausing in front of the mirror hanging opposite the door and pulling a lipstick out of her tiny little designer looking purse. I feel like vomiting as I watch her re-apply it, smooth down her hair and wipe under her eyes.

The bastard!

She smiles as she turns and spots me, says goodbye as she passes, and then anger takes over as I get a waft of vanilla up my nose.

I storm to the door, fling it open and find a very surprised-looking Pax sitting behind his desk, his hands hovering above his keyboard.

“Blue?” he asks, his eyes wide, searching behind me for signs of danger, or maybe for her.

“Don’t,” I snap, feeling a little unhinged. “Who the fuck was that?”

His brows furrow, and then, as my words sink in, they raise. “Who? You mean–”

“The woman,” I hiss, coming closer to his desk. “The woman who came in here looking flawless, and then felt the need to reapply her lipstick on the way out. The woman you spent more time than I’d deem necessary for a simple question to be answered in yourclosedoffice.”

He stands slowly, his computer chair hitting the wall with a soft thud. Holding his hands out in front of him, as if trying to placate me, he asks, “Rose?”

“I don’t give a fuck what her name is, Paxton. I just want to know what you were doing with her in here.”

I sound like a lunatic.

“Okay,” he says in a soft voice. “Rose was in here to ask me if Drew could finish up early today and have tomorrow off so she could surprise him with a weekend away. They’re married.” He lets those words sit for a minute before continuing. “She said a last-minute cancellation came up at their favourite hotel in the city. She would have spoken to Jagger about it if he was here, but she saw him leaving the parking lot as she pulled in.”

You’d think that’d calm me down, but nope.

“Why the fuck did your employee’s wife leave your office and feel the need to re-apply her lipstick, then? What were youactuallydoing in here?”

Even to myself, I sound irrational, but I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

“You’re serious?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious as he finally reaches me.

I force myself to tilt my head back and meet his eyes. “We haven’t spoken about monogamy, so for all I know, you left my bed this morning and decided on an afternoon quickie with her.” I throw my hands up, feeling the panic entering my body.

Why can’t I fucking calm down? Why am I reacting so dramatically to this? He’s just told me she’s Drew’s wife. She probably wanted to look nice for him before she went and told him about their trip.

But her face.

That weird smirking, snooty face.

Within seconds of me finishing my sentence, he has me spun around, my ass pushed against the edge of his desk, and his hands tightly wrapped in my curls. “You. Are. Mine,” he hisses, his lip curling. “We haven’t discussed monogamy because, for me, it isn’t a fucking option. There was no decision to make. You are mine,” he repeats. “I’m yours. That’s it. That’s us.”

His words feel like the emotional equivalent of a cold bucket of water being tossed over my head.

“Yeah?” I croak out, the fight leaving my body and being replaced with relief. My eyes burn as all the emotions I've felt in the past fifteen minutes decide to come to the surface in the form of tears.

“I am not him. I am not Michael. Do you hear me?” he asks. “I will never step out on you. Never hurt you. Ever. You need more reassurance than I’m giving you, Blue, fucking ask, ‘cos the last thing I want is for you to be walking around questioning the way I feel about you.”

I nod in response, the words banishing my anger, my fear. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my bottom lip trembling, “I shouldn’t have…”

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