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“Will you two ever just give in and call a truce?” Dante sighs. “I can’t keep up with the merry-go-round, it’s giving me a headache.”
“For the record, it’s more like a rollercoaster,” I mutter, making Dante laugh.
“At least you're not stabbing me with a needle this time,” Dante goes on, referring to a week ago when I had to give him a shot and Fynn was being his usual annoying self.
At least he wasn’t mad at me. If anything, he was playful and funny.
The Fynn I know.
“Just keep talking between yourselves,” Fynn grumbles. “It’s like I’m not here.”
“You did just barge in my office,” Dante replies. “Without knocking.”
“I thought you said your office was Switzerland,” he fires back.
“No, that was Mia. Some Twilight reference I’ll never understand. She doesn’t allow us to bicker here, or at home.”
“Where the fuck do you bicker then?” Fynn asks. “The bedroom?”
My eyes flick to his, and he’s staring at me.
I know what he’s doing.
This is what he does to me each and every time.
Fynn has always had the power to render me speechless, and I’m no pushover.
But he has this look on his face. It’s cross between a helpless little boy and a man who doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants. Very unlike Fynn. He’s always known what he wants.
And he got it.
His dream career.
A place within the family business.
Riches beyond comprehension.
Cars. Houses. Goddamn planes.
Women at his beck and call.
I try hard not to roll my eyes at that one.
He rubs shoulders with the rich, famous and elite.
There is probably nothing this man can’t get.
Well, maybe one thing. But I didn’t plant the seed in his brain about babies. If he hadn’t been so damn nosy, he wouldn’t have even a clue what I was doing in the privacy of my own home.
Asshole.
“I’ll leave that to your imagination,” Dante snorts, giving me an eyebrow waggle, which I roll my eyes at.
I rip the gauze from the packet, placing it over his wound, then set a waterproof bandage over the top.
“TMI,” I reply, smiling sweetly when Dante looks up at me.
“I just remembered, I’ve got to pick Mia up from work,” Dante goes on, his eyes glinting with mischief. “So Fynn can take my place having dinner with you.”
