I hate my dad.
I hate Theodore.
And somehow, impossibly, I still want to marry him. I swallowed. “I’m scared.” Naomi smiled faintly. “About the money, or about getting married?”
“Both?” She laughed softly. “Everything will be fine, you’re making the right decision, and you have a man who cares for you.” I nod and smile. We finished our coffees and walked to the office.
“Hey Harper, is Theo there?” I ask her to signal the office door. “Since when do you ask for permission to enter his office?”
“I’m trying to set boundaries,” She looks at me, confused.
“He is in a meeting, but I’m sure he won't mind if you step in.” That’s suspicious. “Thanks.” As I enter, I can hear him say, “Yeah, I’m sure she will sign it, but she just needs more time—” He looks up. “Give me a second.” He puts the call on mute. “Hey, I’m glad you are here. You should be part of this conversation.”
“Yeah, Harper insinuated that. What’s this about?”
“I’m on the phone with Mayle, we’re discussing the prenup and the trust fund.” I take an exaggerated breath in. “So, about that, yeah, I’ll sign it.” He looked surprised, but please. “You’re cashing it?”
“Yes, I talked to Naomi this morning, we discussed my options, and she advised me on some accounts I can open to keep that money safe, but available.” He’s looking at me like he is so proud of me. That makes my heart melt.
I know that sometimes, he sees me like this, a twenty-six-year-old who fell in love with this sexy and obnoxious older man, and she just lost her mind, andmaybe I did. And I still do, especially when his tongue is on my pu— the point is, I need to show him and everyone that I can be a responsible adult.
“You look like you are about to combust. What’s on your mind?” Fuck that doesn’t help.
“Well, I was thinking about how I made this responsible adult decision, but then got distracted thinking about your tongue.” He smirks now, “My tongue where?” He asks, grabbing me and pulling me to the edge of the desk. “Here?” He asks, sliding his finger up my thigh, I shake my head, “I was thinking a bit higher.” He keeps sliding his finger up until he reaches the hem of my panties. “Here?”
“You are dangerously close, but higher.” Then he pulled the edge of my panties, pulled them to the side, and with his thumb, he pressed on my clit, and I gasped. “Here?”
“Yes, right there.” He rearranged his chair so that he was seated right between my legs and pulled me closer. My legs were on either side of his chair now. I’m seated at the edge of his desk, and he just pushed me backward. As soon as my head hit the desk, his mouth was on me. I saw stars. The way this man can stop whatever he’s doing just to taste me, to provoke me, to—, FUCK THE CALL.
I stand up and close my legs, “What’s wrong, what happened?”
I hit unmute on the phone pad, “Hey Mayle, yes, I will sign the prenup. You’ll have it on your desk by EOD, nice talking to you, bye-bye.” And I hung up.
He is just looking at me in awe. “Okay, now.” I resume my position and let him devour me right there on his desk.
The rest of the day was uneventful until we got home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
theo
I thought runninga billion-dollar company would prepare me for anything.
But it did not prepare me for Samantha Hayes with a Pinterest board. And her “bridesmaids” who are sending packages and text messages at any given hour of the day. I thought Harper and Elena would have more respect for me, guess I was wrong.
I’m standing in our kitchen watching my fiancée with her laptop open, a legal pad full of bullet points, sitting cross-legged on the counter in an oversized sweatshirt that saysBRIDEin gold letters—that I know for a fact she didn’t buy, but immediately fell in love with it when she opened the package.
Elena and Rose have been pampering her in a way that I didn’t expect. Well, not from Elena anyway. She was never like that with my ex-wife. I bet she even hated her. So seeing her like this, giving so much loveto Samantha, has really shown me a side of my sister that I truly appreciate.
She’s holding her phone in both hands, eyes narrowed. “I hate it,” she declares. I glance at her screen. “That’s a bouquet.”
“It’s astatement bouquet,” she corrects. “And it looks like something a Victorian ghost would carry into battle after her husband died defending their country.”
“It’s… white flowers.”
“It’stoomany white flowers.” I take a sip of coffee and pretend this is normal. “Okay. No Victorian widow battle bouquet. Noted.” Sam smiles like she’s won a war. “Good.”
I reach across the counter and brush my thumb over her knee. “We don’t have to do anything big. You know that.”
