Page 58 of The Contract Marriage

“You’re looking at me with those shiny puppy-dog eyes.”

I continue to peer at her.

“Makes it impossible to say no.”

I burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

My shoulders continue to shake.

“You’re worse than a puppy!”

“I’ll be a very happy puppy if we get to have date nights occasionally.”

“And persistent,” she says, sighing. “All right, fine.”

“Perfect.” I kiss her cheek. “Then we’ll go to La Mer for our first.”

“Why there?”

“Because you like seafood.”

Her eyebrows jump.

I continue, “You ate every bite of the sea bream Frederich made for our wedding dinner, and sole was the only thing you touched at Grandma’s place. And now you’re eating fish tacos.”

“Okay, Sherlock. Yes, fine, I love seafood. But most people don’t notice. Not even Hugh. He thinks I love beef, probably because he likes it.”

My face scrunches. “Ugh. What kind of father is he, anyway?”

A ghost of a smile flits across her face. “Guess we both drew shitty lots when it came to fathers. But La Mer has a long waiting list. Do you really want to schedule our first date to be months from now?”

I smile. Could she actually be looking forward to the date? “Don’t worry about it. I have a connection.”

“You sure it’s going to work? I heard they don’t even let rich people cut ahead.”

“Yeah, but that’s them. And I’m me.”

“All right. If you say so.” She pauses, then gives me a warm smile. “I’m actually kind of excited about this date—and a chance to get to know you better.”

I smile back. My parents can call me whatever they want, but I matter to Olivia, and that’s enough for me. “Yeah, me too.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Liam

I sit in my office, looking over the request for more information from Luminary & Co. I like what this company has done, offering a dignified and beautiful way to let your loved one go, and the business it plans to expand into. We’d better get this contract, even though it isn’t that big. I have a gut feeling about it. The partnership we form will be beautiful.

“Hey, don’t try to block me. I’m family,” comes a grating voice through the open door.

“Family?” Emmie says.

“Yeah, I’m his father. Didn’t he tell you?”

What the hell?

“I know who his father is. And you’re not Auric Kingswood, sir.”