Page 69 of The Contract Marriage

“It’s been my pleasure.” He gazes at me, his eyes bright. “And it will always be my pleasure to stand by your side and help you achieve everything you desire.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Liam

I can’t focus on anything all morning. All I can think about is Simon’s smug face. Why didn’t Olivia say something? Or at least hint that it was her birthday?

Don’t I deserve to know? Especially when he knows? Or did she expect me to check the marriage license and remember? I was so excited about our ceremony that it didn’t occur to me at the time.

She probably forgot. She’s probably busy. She might tell me later. Not everyone remembers their birthdays. Rhys and Gideon never remember because they’d rather spend that time working. The rest of the brothers have to do something about it.

But none of that soothes me. Simon’s smirk as he left the house keeps digging into my head like a drill.

Emmie walks into the office. “About the meeting with the designers—”

“No.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Cancel it. In fact, cancel all my meetings for the day. I’m out.”

“But we need to finalize the launch of—”

“Have Mike take over. He’s senior enough, and it’s about time he takes on more responsibilities.”

I head out while Emmie’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish.

It’s barely noon. Maybe buy a nama-cream cake from Bobbi’s Sweet Things and head over to Olivia’s office? Just drop it off casually and say, “Hey, just a little something for your birthday.”

No. That’s so…juvenile. Besides, who knows what the hell was in Simon’s box.

“I’ve got her covered this year, too,” he said. That fucker.

This year is my year—the year Liam Kingswood celebrates his wife’s birthday properly. And no smirky son of a bitch is going to get in the way.

I call Frederich with detailed instructions.

“All that. And before six this evening,” Frederich says. I can practically hear the raised eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“You could just give her a ring. I’m sure something suitable can be found within a couple of hours.”

“That’s so passé. Besides, it’s expected. You can’t be predictable and exciting.”

“Ah, yes. The excitement.”

“And grandeur.”

“Grandeur as well.”

“I have faith in you, Frederich.”

But I still stop by the showroom floor, just in case. What I planned should be enough to beat Simon, but I can’t be complacent. Every time I feel like my place is secure in my wife’s world, I feel like he kicks me from behind, trying to evict me.

No fucking way. I waited twelve years, and this is my time.

I text Frederich with more instructions. He reads them, but doesn’t respond. Damn it. Doesn’t he know this is important? Maybe he’s too old and out of touch. He’s been married for decades, after all. Probably forgotten what it’s like to be young.