Page 32 of Size Doesn't Matter

Brilliant and blinding.

She didn’t belong in the shadows any more than he belonged in the light.

But he had enjoyed his time with her. Spanking her luscious arse until she was a wriggling pile of lust and need, then holding her down and fucking her like an animal. Kissing her mouth, her body, drinking her in one glorious inch at a time. Making love to her, slowly, tenderly. Passionately. Then holding her in his arms as she’d slept, her lush body curled around his, warm and trusting.

A trust he’d broken with his own selfish need.

Yes, he was still married, but only because his greedy wife refused to sign the divorce papers until he gave her more money. But after what she did, she was lucky to get anything at all.

And she was well overdue a reminder of that fact.

Resolve straightened Jack’s spine.

He would get Sophie back.

He had to.

He’d had a taste of sunshine, and he needed—craved—more.

But first he had to end his farce of a marriage once and for all.

“Where’s my phone?” he demanded, striding back into the penthouse living area.

Ethan tossed him the device he’d left on the table earlier. “Who are you calling?”

“My solicitor.”

His brother grinned. “It’s about fucking time.”

12

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his new corner office. The sheer amount of sunlight streaming into the expansive room seemed rather opulent compared to the fluorescent lighting he was used to in the accounting department, hidden away in the bowels of the building.

The view was nothing to sneeze at either. He’d take the morning sunshine bouncing off the water in Sydney Harbour over the greige walls and mass-produced artworks in accounting any day. He smiled as he remembered Sophie’s comments on the subject on New Year’s Eve, about her view of the swimming pool compared to his view of the moonlight on the ocean.

God, I miss her.

Checking his watch for the umpteenth time that morning, he twisted his mouth. He was irritated. He was waiting for his soon-to-be ex-wife to appear for their mid-morning meeting, and she was late.As usual. God forbid Lisa Bancroft adhere to any sort of schedule, her own or anybody else’s. People might get the idea that shewasn’tthe free-spirited devil-may-care heiress she purported to be and was, in fact, the most manipulative, calculating, and mean-spirited woman he'd ever had the misfortune to know.

He checked his watch again and let loose an impatient sigh. She was almost an hour overdue.Typical. He sighed again. He couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Turning back to his desk, he surveyed his growing mountain of work. He’d been CEO of Martin Cosmetics for one week, and already he needed a holiday. His life had been nothing but endless meetings, pointless memos, and an unrelentingly full email inbox.

Currently, he was going over the quarterly financial reports for each department and making sure they were staying within their budgets while still hitting their targets. As much as he tried not to, he couldn’t help returning again and again to the marketing department’s reports, specifically the modelling contracts. He grinned like an idiot.

They’d hired Sophie for the new advertising campaign.

Withouthis interference.

Not that the gossip columnists would believe it. They’d continued printing bullshit about them, including photos of Sophie sitting in Jack’s lap on the penthouse balcony, clearly enjoying herself, feeding him cheese and fruit while wearing nothing but sexy lingerie.

The photos didn’t paint a very flattering picture for his girl or her reputation, and he still wanted to know how the hell they’d even gotten them. They’d been sitting on the penthouse balcony, facing the ocean. There had been no vantage point for the paparazzi to exploit.

Probably used a fucking camera drone.

Jack had contemplated issuing a public statement denouncing the gossip being printed but had been warned against it. The company publicist told him it would only add fuel to the flames and that it was best to ignore the lies and let them die a natural death.

He rubbed the back of his neck. It grated against his nerves to sit back and do nothing, to leave his woman exposed to such degrading rumours. But Ethan had reluctantly agreed with the publicist, reminding him that he’d been through this situation more times than he could count and that a big part of Jack’s new job was to let the experts do theirs.

---