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Brad goes back to what he was saying, and it’s actually wedding-related, but I don’t like the way he’s looking at her, and I really don’t fucking like the way he keeps angling his body to block me out of the conversation.

I do, however, love the way her ring reflects the lights in the lobby.

Did you see that, Brad? Can’t miss it.

When he takes a step back, using his hands as props while he talks, I take the opening to step closer to Grace.

My arm slides around her back, my hand hooking on her hip as I pull her closer to me.

She relaxes, as if it’s a move we’ve done countless times. Then she settles into my side, her hand resting over mine. Not grabbing it to remove it, just resting on it.

She turns slightly to mold her body into mine, and I let out a breath.

She’s allowed to talk to other people, especially when it’s work-related, and I shouldn’t be acting this way. Hell, I should be in my office working on my own shit and letting her do her job. She was fine running this place without me before. She’d be just fine doing it now, too.

“Oh, and Kerri said you refused to give her an interview, and I just think that’s⁠—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I cut in, fully knowing I’m not about to do anything that just went through my head. “But I need to steal my fiancée for a moment.”

“Of course. We’ll catch up later,” he says with annoyance.

No, you won’t.

“Enjoy your afternoon,” Grace says and gives him a polite wave as she steers us toward the offices.

She doesn’t say a single word as we walk into her office, but once she closes the door, it’s a different story.

“What is your problem?” she snaps. “I was just talking to him about his wedding.”

“He was in your face.”

“He was standing across from me.”

“He was inching closer.”

“He was not. He was standing at an appropriate distance.”

“Nope. He was too close.”

“You’re infuriating.” She rounds her desk and takes a seat. “But the positive side of your actions just now is that you came off as a possessive fiancé, and some might see that as a good thing, especially when he reports it back to his fiancée.”

Right, let’s not forget that every time I do something now, Grace verbally reminds us that this is fake.

“Why do you want him to tell her that? Possessive doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

She sighs.

“No, I guess not, but maybe he’ll tell her you were jealous.”

“I’m confused. You’re mad that I was possessive, but it’s a good thing, but maybe it’s not, and now I’m jealous.”

I was. I absolutely was.

Grace closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Being possessive could come off as a man in love. A man who wants to make sure other men know that this”—she gestures to herself—“is off-limits for all other men.”

“You are.”