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He went through a stack of folders on his desk and then opened one to read from it. It was Liz’s basic bio and resume. It was all pretty standard until he got to her experience. She didn’t have any. It was rare, but not impossible for shows like this to get an inexperienced, but naturally talented new chef. However, Liz didn’t strike me as anything but average. Her dishes had skated by, barely keeping her on the show.
I watched Jude closely, and he shrunk under my scrutiny. A hunch started to form and if I was right, it would make this whole process much easier for me. “She’s been hassling my fiancée. I’d like you and studio council to accompany me while I have a chat with her.”
Jude swallowed hard as relief flitted over his expression before he smoothed it into its usual Botoxed perfection. “Of course.” He stood and led the way from his office, stopping a few doors down to recruit a lawyer to accompany us. The contestants were setting up in the kitchen but scurried off when I told them we needed to speak to Liz alone.
She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled at me, turning my stomach. Her eyes strayed to Jude for a moment, flashing with something I didn’t recognize, before returning to me and my suspicions grew.
“Liz, I understand there has been some contention between you and my fiancée,” I started in a reasonable tone. I was livid inside but knew this would have to be handled delicately.
Her overly made up eyes widened, and she adopted a look of surprise and hurt. “I didn’t want to upset you, Owen. But, she has been rather mean to me.”
I frowned and checked the impulse to roll my eyes. “Chef or Mr. Walker,” I corrected before continuing with my warning. “I’m telling you now to stay away from her and me.” A slight edge of panic flitted over her face and once again, her eyes darted to Jude. “I can’t get you kicked off of the show for your attitude, and I would never let it affect the way I judge you as a contestant.”
She started to smile in a way that I’m sure she considered seductive. Jude cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet. I was confident my instincts were correct and decided to act on them. “However, your relationship with the producer is a conflict of interest and a breach of contract. For that, I can get you kicked off the show.”
Liz gasped and whirled to face Jude. “You said no one would ever find out!” she snapped. “I can’t believe you told him I slept with you to get on the show!”
“He was guessing, you dumb bitch!” Jude shouted as he took a menacing step in her direction. “You were the one who just fucking confirmed it!”
My hands clenched into fists at Jude’s words. I didn’t give a fuck what she’d done, no man should talk to a woman that way. Keeping myself reined in, I pivoted to face the dark-haired, female lawyer who accompanied us. Her face was filled with disgust as she watched the two assholes argue. “They both better be gone before I return for taping or I’m out of here,” I growled. “I don’t give a fuck about my contract.”
She met my gaze and nodded. “Don’t worry, Mr. Walker. They’ll be taken care of.”
I lifted my chin in response and strode from the room. Sienna was curled up on the couch, reading a book, when I arrived back at my dressing room. “Hey, baby,” I greeted her softly as I dropped down beside her and pulled her into my lap. She laid her head on my shoulder and I picked up her left hand, toying with the ring I’d given her.
“Where have you been?” she asked. “You seem really upset.”
I smiled and kissed her forehead. I loved that she knew me so well. “Taking out the trash.” She looked at me with confusion and I just shrugged. “Jude and Liz were screwing, making it very easy to have them both removed from the show.” My mood darkened and I hugged her a little closer. “No one messes with the woman I’m going to marry.”
She sighed and slumped into me, taking me by surprise. Was she upset that I’d taken it so far?
“There’s no one else here, Owen. You don’t have to pretend when we’re alone.”
What the fuck? “Pretend what, baby?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.
“That we’re engaged.”
I reared back in shock and growled, “This is not pretend. We are fucking engaged, Sienna. This is not up for discussion. I love you, you love me, you’re having my baby, and we are getting married as soon as we get home.”
“You really want to marry me?” she asked hopefully.
“Baby, what in the hell ever made you think that I didn’t? I gave you a damn engagement ring and have told everyone I’ve come into contact with that you’re my fiancée.”
“You never asked me.”
Well fuck. “You’re right, baby,” I sighed. “I just assumed that you would know I was serious since I already had a ring for you. It was a spur of the moment decision. I know you deserve more than that, and I had every intention of doing it right once we got home. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re going to do it right?” I nodded. “Flowers, candles, romance, down on one knee?” She ticked off her fingers as she went down the list.
I chuckled and shook my head—so damn adorable. “Anything you want, baby. As long as it ends with me fucking you in nothing but heels and my engagement ring.”
Her eyes heated, but she pursed her lips as though she were deeply contemplating. I raised an eyebrow and leaned in to place my lips over hers. I kissed the fuck out of her, only stopping when I was about ten seconds away from ripping off her clothes and fucking her right there on the couch. Not that we hadn’t christened the couch already, but I had to be on set in about five minutes.
She shook her head, trying to clear away the lust fog I’d induced. “Ring, heels, fucking.” She canted her head and winked at me with a sexy smile. “I can make that happen.” She wiggled her ass on my lap, making the erection I was already sporting, harder than steel.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I decided five minutes was plenty of time for a little preview.
Epilogue
Sienna
Flowers, candles, romance, rings, heels, and fucking... it all became a tradition for Owen and me. It was how we celebrated our official engagement, our wedding, the birth of our baby girl—although we had to wait six weeks for the fucking part—and now our first anniversary.
We were cuddled together on a bench seat in a little French bistro that was owned by one of his chef friends. We’d been seated at a table in the corner with plenty of privacy. Ours was the only one with a huge bouquet of soft pink Sophie roses as a centerpiece, and I knew Owen had gotten them for me because they were one of my favorites. All the tables had candles, but I was still going to give him credit for it since he’d definitely nailed the romantic mood.
“You can’t keep buying me rings for every occasion. I’ll never be able to wear them all.”
“Sure I can, baby. You keep wearing those heels and letting me fuck you in them when we get home”— he slid his hand down my leg and squeezed—“and I’m going to keep finding rings to slide on your finger.”
“I’m going to run out of fingers to use!”
I felt the loss of his warmth when he lifted his hand from my leg, but not for long since he dropped it onto my belly. “If this one’s a little girl, too, then we’ll have another set of fingers on a daughter who will eventually grow up and want to wear her mommy’s rings—just like Ciara will.”
My heart melted at how his voice softened when he talked about our six-month-old baby girl and the pregnancy we’d just confirmed with a test that very morning. My super sexy husband had turned into an even sexier baby daddy. I’d just about ruined my panties when he’d told me he wanted to get a full sleeve tattoo, and then swooned when he showed me a design that incorporated me and Ciara into it. He waited until I’d recovered from her delivery and then took me with him to the tattoo parlor while he had it started. The artist finished a big section of the artwork, from his shoulder to his elbow, with an intric
ate design in black ink.
I’d been ready to combust, sitting there and watching him have it done. We hadn’t even made it back home before Owen had pulled over onto a secluded road so we could rip each other’s clothes off and steam up the car’s windows. It hadn’t mattered how many times we’d had sex the night before—which was a lot since I’d finally gotten the doctor’s all clear that morning—we couldn’t wait the extra ten minutes before we got home.
“If you don’t stop being so damn romantic, we’re going to have a repeat from tattoo night on the way home,” I warned him.
“And that’s supposed to make me stop? Or give me an incentive to ratchet it up a few notches?” His green eyes twinkled naughtily, and he winked at me. “Because that night was hot as hell. It definitely isn’t going to dissuade me when I’d like nothing more than a repeat of it.”
“Stop,” I chided, feeling my panties grow damp. “You can’t talk like that here. You know how horny I get when I’m pregnant.”
“Fuck, yeah I do. It makes me want to keep you knocked up even more than I already planned on doing.”
“It’s a good thing I graduated a month before our wedding, or else I’d have to keep my legs shut around you, force a condom on your dick any time it came near me, or start taking birth control pills. If I didn’t already have my degree—”
“But you do, baby. I waited patiently for you to finish it before I slid that wedding band on your finger.”
“Patient?” Throaty laughter burst out of my mouth at his description. “Telling me you’d give me one month past my graduation to put together an entire wedding is the furthest thing from patient.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t toss you over my shoulder in L.A. and march us straight to the courthouse.”
