“This morning,” I confirm.
Disbelief fills his handsome face. “How the hell did you get that before I did?”
“Leni.”
“Fuck.”
He crosses to me as the doors open, taking my face between his palms.
He kisses me, long and deep, before coming up for air.
“I need to check on the club on the way. Make sure everyone’s on the job working twice as fast.”
“No, you don’t,” I say quickly, and he grimaces.
“I’ll pull up the security footage. Just to make sure everything on the exterior is on schedule.”
As we exit the elevators at the lobby, he reaches for his phone.
I try to bat it away. “Don’t you trust Leni?”
His frown is exasperated. “I did until she booked me to give that presentation yesterday to a group of LA entrepreneurs without telling me. It was out of character.”
It’s also why I’ve been working on something special the past few days, something that requires him to be far away from the club in order for it to be a surprise.
In the end, he’s too strong and I can’t get his phone.
He stops in the middle of the lobby, pulling up the security footage.
Shit.I squeeze my eyes shut…
“The fuck is wrong with the security cameras?” he gripes.
I exhale and peer around his arm at the screen. “It looks like the interior one is fine. Just the street view is shorted out.”
Thank you, Leni, I say in my head.
I lay a hand on his cheek, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “We should stop and pick up a gift though.”
“No, we shouldn’t.” He takes my hand, nodding to the doorman as we pass out into the sunshine and approach Harrison’s car that the valet has pulled up.
“Yeah, we should. Annie’s pregnant, and you’re supposed to buy shit for babies, right?”
“Their gift is already being delivered.” Harrison rounds to the driver’s side.
I pull up, staring at him. Of course he ordered a gift and had it delivered. It’s probably something thoughtful and expensive, and he knows I suck at friend-ing and didn’t even point it out.
“I love you.”
He freezes before turning back. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He comes back to me and kisses me against the side of the car until I’m breathless.
Fuck breathing. It’s overrated. Especially when the alternative is having Harrison King’s possessive mouth worshipping mine.
“We’re going back inside,” he murmurs.