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"That’s never going to happen. You know? Not all of us have enough money to hire loads of people to help. And I do have third-party vendors helping out."
"Not the same thing.”
“I have an assistant—”
“If you’re referring to the receptionist who answers your phone and takes care of your admin work, we both know that’s not enough. You need someone more experienced. A second-in-command who can pick up some of the load and cover for you when you’re off, so you don’t spend all of your time worrying about your projects. You need time off to rejuvenate and replenish your energy. Even a workaholic like me knows when to switch off."
"And I don’t," she says in a flat voice.
"You don’t. Given the nature of your job and the need to be on top of social media, I understand why, but it’s not going to help you in the long run. If you don’t manage your time wisely, you’ll burn out."
"And you’re the man who’s going to stop that from happening, I suppose?"
"As your future husband—"
"Fake husband."
"—Fake husband, it’s only right I help where I can."
"By taking over my business?"
"By giving you a helping hand."
She tips up her chin. "And if I refuse to accept?"
"Are you refusing to accept?"
She bends and stabs a finger in my chest.
Sensations sizzle out from the point of contact. My blood seems to pump faster through my veins, most of it draining to my crotch. I’m instantly hard.
"I absolutely, completely and utterly refuse, you overgrown, egotistical, swollen-headed baboon." Her gaze meets mine and holds it. In her baby-blues, silver sparks flicker like drops of rain on a lake’s surface. Such gorgeous eyes, with those haunted depths that call to me.
I’ve never been able to resist puzzles. And this woman, with her prickly attitude and independent nature, not to mention, her clear aversion to me—even though she’s also attracted to me—is one that piques my interest like nothing has in a long while. I can’t rest until I’ve found a way to get to the bottom of whatever it is she’s hiding from me. I grip her wrist and tug; she loses her balance and falls into my lap, then throws her arms about my neck to support herself.
She opens her mouth to speak, and I’m so tired of hearing her say no, I shut her up the only way I can think of. I kiss her. I slant my mouth over hers and bite on her bottom lip. She gasps, and I slide my tongue inside her mouth. I kiss her deeply, suck on her tongue, drink from her, and she kisses me right back. She opens herself up, presses herself close so her breasts are pushed into my chest. All the blood drains to my groin, and my cock thickens. I dig my fingers in her hair, wrap the strands about my fingers and tug. She moans, plasters herself to me, and burrows in even closer, then her entire body stiffens.
"Let me go." She pulls away from me so suddenly, I release her. She slides off me and hits the floor.
"Isla, are you okay?" I reach forward to help her, but she jumps to her feet.
"Stay away from me, asshole."
She pats her hair in place, snatches up her handbag, stands up and holds out her hand.
I glance from her outstretched palm to her.
Her eyebrows lower. "Give me back my phone."
I hesitate. "Just give it a little more time. Let things settle down before you check—"
"Don’t tell me how to do my goddam job. Give me my phone. Right now, Liam."
Fuck.I pull out her phone and place it in her hand. She turns and marches off toward a seat on the far end of the plane. The one that’s farthest away from me. For the rest of the flight, she’s engrossed in her device. Even across the distance, I can tell she’s stressed. Her cheeks are pale, her shoulders rigid. She deserves it, of course, considering how she screwed up all of my plans. But damn if I’m not pissed that she’s so upset.
She stabs at her phone screen, shakes her head. Stabs at the screen again, then glowers at me.
"You deleted my social media apps, and I’m not able to download them."
