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“It was…is.”
“Thenmay Iask what the problem is?” The hint of sly amusement is unmistakable.
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
“I left you a note.”
Should I be thanking him then that he didn’t spring this up on me at the last second? Because that’s what I hear from his infuriatingly composed tone.
“Are you having second thoughts, kitten?” He lowers his voice and asks. “You nervous?”
My back freezes and the reality of what I’m about to let happen hits me at the speed of a bullet train. Because once I marry him and sign those papers, there will be no going back. I’ll be deceiving everyone around me. Yet I also know it’s the only option I have.
Still, I can’t accept my nerves in front of Dash. He’s the epitome of confidence.
Except when he’s talking about his emotions.
“You should’ve asked, Dash,” I say, summoning all my strength. “Just because I don’t run a billion-dollar company, doesn’t mean I’m not just as busy.”
“I would never assume that,” he replies, his tone indicating I didn’t offend him. “Which is why I checked your schedule first.”
“You went through my calendar?”
“Yes.”
“On my laptop?”
“Where else would I check?” He sighs.
“How do you know my passcode?” My tone is aghast.
“Zero zero zero hardly constitutes as a password, kitten. A toddler would have cracked it.” He scoffs, maddening me. “You also have the same one on your phone. Bit useless, if you ask me. And before you ask, yes I saw the photos you took of me in Paris.”
I flush red from head to toe and shake my head at his lack of boundaries. Why did I expect he would have them in the first place? The joke’s on me. And yes, I couldn’t resist clicking pictures of him when he wasn’t looking.
Never let good sunlight go to waste… is my mantra.
“Triple zero is a perfectly safe and strong password since nobody expects one to have it these days.”
“Says who?”
I narrow my eyes because he’s obviously trying to distract me with this pointless conversation. The voices I heard earlier are now inaudible as though he switched rooms.
“Did you leave your meeting?”
“I don’t like others listening to my private call with my fiancée who’s having cold feet.”
“I am not.”
“Good. I’ll see you at twelve then.”
“My dress isn’t ready yet,” I lie like a fool.
“I don’t care what you’re wearing as long as you’re there and signing the papers, kitten.” I can just imagine his firm expression and now I’ve run out of possible excuses. As if he can feel my struggle, he softly coaxes, “It’ll be okay. You’re doing this for your sister. Look at it this way, the sooner you do, the sooner she gets her wedding. Then you can happily get rid of me,” he jokes and a chuckle spills past my lips.
“I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.”
“No, you can’t, wifey.” I shiver at his possessive growl. “But it’d be fun to see you try.”
