Page 61 of The Agreement


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“Okay, that’s enough,” Zara snaps. The baby stirs, then begins to cry. She hushes the kid, who only begins to bawl louder. “It’s okay, darling. Mommy’s here. You’re hungry, aren’t you?” She pushes down the neckline of her dress and I get a flash of her breast—my sister’s breast—before I hastily turn away.

The baby stops crying, clearly, because it’s latched onto her boob.Ah hell, should I be associating the word boob with my sister? Sisters aren’t supposed to have breasts or get married, or spawn babies, for that matter. Jesus, when had the time gone by?

I remember Zara as a feisty girl who matched me when it came to running, playing cricket and football, or standing up to my parents when they insisted she behave more like a 'girl.'When did she grown up enough to have a child of her own? How much did I miss in the time I was away from home?I rub the back of my neck.Why am I having all of these misgivings?I made my choices a long time ago. And so far, they’ve stood me in good stead. So,why am I questioning them now?Clearly, seeing my sister with her newborn, not to mention running into the woman who has a way of getting under my skin, has thrown me off kilter.

"I think, uh… I need a cup of coffee." I turn toward the door.

"I’m not done with either of you," Zara announces.

I blow out a breath. I may be a few minutes older than her, but she’s always been the bossy one. And when my sister commands, you don’t ignore it.

I exchange glances with Abby, who looks a little shamefaced, as well. She glances at Zara. "Sorry about that; didn’t mean to wake up the little one."

"Oh, he was hungry; he’ll be okay once he’s had his fill." She turns to me. "You, on the other hand, need to apologize."

"Eh?" I scowl. "For what?"

"For being rude and saying things you don’t mean, for one."

"I meant everything I said." I draw myself up to a full height. "Also"—I turn to Abby—"I promised your brother I’d look after you while he’s away."

Abby folds her arms across her chest, her jaw set in stubborn lines that take me by surprise. The Abby I left in bed all those months ago had been pliable and open. She’d parted her thighs, wound her arms about me, and offered herself to me. She’d opened her heart, mind, and soul, and I had taken from her. She’d been flexible and soft and all woman. I don’t remember her being this headstrong. Apparently, the months I’ve been away have given her the time and space to acquire a backbone. Now, she narrows her gaze on me.

"I donotneed you," she snaps.

"Oh, but you do. You just don’t know it yet," I say in a casual tone.

Her eyes flash. "Anyone ever told you how condescending you are?"

"I can afford it."

She gapes at me. "You’re such an asshole."

"Thank you. Also, I prefer alphahole."

"Why you—"

"Enough already.” Zara’s steely tone cuts between us.

Abby takes a deep breath and seems to get ahold of herself, and by the time she turns to face Zara, all traces of anger are wiped from her face. "Sorry about that. I don’t normally lose my temper."

"Don’t I know that?" Zara looks at her speculatively. "It’s good to see you stand up for yourself."

She shuffles her feet. "It’s just, he— I—"

"Don’t worry about it." Zara’s features soften. "I know what he’s like. Still, I think it will be good for you to accept this role with King."

Abby blinks. "Y-you do?"

Zara nods. "You’ve done a great job with the Prime Ministerial campaign. But that’s over now, and you need something else to challenge you so you can grow. And becoming King’s Communication Manager would give you all of that, and more."

"Are you saying my reputation is in need of repair?” I protest.

Zara snorts. "It would help if you weren’t seen with a different woman every week, and in a different country. Not to mention, that bar-fight you got into in Thailand. You could have done without that."

I smirk. "You should see the other guy."

Zara shakes her head, but her lips curve up a little. "You’re right that you need a professional in charge of your image. Someone who’ll also keep you in line."

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