AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I chuckled. “Such arrogance.” I tilted my head, excitement flaming to life in my belly. “Ready to open your presents now?”
“Sure.”
When we settled on the living room sofa, I handed my gifts over to him first—cufflinks, a designer wristwatch, his signature cologne, a bottle of his favorite whiskey, and a new vintage liquor cabinet, since the other was scratched to shit courtesy of Gypsy. The collection of gifts earned me not only some gorgeous smiles but a deep, lingering kiss that made my toes curl.
He then passed over my gifts, which included not only the gold compass but a diamond necklace with matching earrings, a huge box of my favorite luxury chocolates, a new tablet—I’d recently dropped the other, which now had a cracked screen—and a selection of signed, special editions of not-yet-released novels. One of those was written by Nina Bowen, and I might have squealed just a little on unwrapping it.
“The latter is for sure your favorite gift, isn’t it?” It wasn’t a question from him; it was a knowing comment.
I shrugged, hugging the hardcover to me. “What can I say? I love her.” As a little secret smile plucked at his mouth, I narrowed my eyes. “Every time I mention her, you get a weird look on your face. What gives?”
Humming, he dipped his mouth to my ear. “Want to know a secret?”
“Of course.”
“You have to keep it to yourself.”
“Done.” I placed the book on the table and gave him my full attention. “Tell me.”
“The name Nina Bowen is a pseudonym. The author’s real name is in fact Kensey Mercier.”
Shocked as all shit, I gawked. “Your momis Nina Bowen? No way!”
He smiled. “Yes way.”
“You’re fucking with me,” I breathed.
“It’s true,” he insisted, chuckling.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Recalling the look on her face when I’d gushed over her tattoo and made that comment about loving Nina Bowen, I felt my cheeks go hot.Oh, God.“You haven’t told her that I’m sototallyobsessed with her books, have you?”
He grinned. “Of course I have.”
I groaned in mortification, slapping my hands to my burning face.
Another rumbly chuckle vibrated in his chest. “She’s very flattered that she’s one of your favorite authors.”
Struggling to process it, I shook my head and dropped my hands to my lap. “It’s a good thing I hadn’t known she was Nina when I first met her. I would have stumbled my way through our entire conversation like a complete tool.” Feeling a little panicked, I asked, “How am I going to face her at dinner? What do I say to her?”
“Well, this is just an idea, but you could talk to her as normally as you usually do,” he quipped.
“Yeah, that won’t happen. I’ll fangirl all the way.” I poked his chest. “I can’t believe you kept this from me. You should make it up to me.”
“I should? How?”
“By telling me why you like to choose what I wear.” But he’d likely hold back that answer just for the fun—
“It’s a way of marking you, I suppose,” he explained with a faint shrug, shocking me by answering so readily. He dragged his fingertips down my throat, adding, “If I won’t get to see you all day, you’ll at least walk out of the house wearing something I chose—for me, it feels similar to putting a brand on you.”
“So it’s an ownership thing,” I mused.
“Yes.” He nipped at my lower lip. “And I like that you want to please me. It gets to me when few things do.”
Huh. Since he seemed to be in a talkative mood, I pounced, saying, “I have one more question: If I hadn’t agreed to marry you, who would you have asked?” Knots formed in my gut as I awaited his response.
