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Right now, she wanted—
Fuck.
What the hell did she want?
She’d already dug the knife in. Did she just want to twist it around a little more?
I sat down and stared right at her. “No, we don’t.”
She bit her lip in that cute little way I loved. And it made me want to kiss those plump lips of hers.
Christ.
I really needed my head examined.
I thought by sitting over here that she’d be out of eyeshot.
But, no.
That perfect cleavage, and those gorgeous legs were still well in sight.
“Cash, honey, look at me, please,” her voice flowed like honey all over my body. Even after everything she’d pulled. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. “You just don’t get it, do you?” I turned my head toward her. “I don’t want to look at you. What you did—” I shook my head and gritted my teeth together. “And now everyone thinks I’m,” I slapped my hand on my chest, “the asshole. And I can’t tell anyone. Because if I do—I’ll look like an even bigger asshole.”
I stared at her glassy eyes and wondered what the hell could possibly be going on in that beautiful head of hers. What could she be saying to herself to make this all right? Cheating on her fiancé? Christ, that was deplorable.
I swear her chin wobbled. What the fuck?
“I know, and I’m sorry.” She inhaled and said, “I’m so sorry, Cash. This is all my fault. I deserved the way you spoke to me. I know that, and—”
She was suddenly interrupted. “Magnifique! Our guests have arrived,” Marcel’s voice blasted into the room.
We both turned our heads to see the owners of this house—and our teams—standing at the now open French doors.
Jillian and I stood to greet them.
After the hellos and double cheek air kisses, we sat back down.
Marcel helped Angelique get comfortable. They really seemed like a tight couple. No kids, but they had the French bulldogs—who you’d swear were their kids.
Marcel doted on Angelique like she was his queen.
You’d never find a more eccentric couple. I was certain of that. But what they had together worked. And it had worked for decades.
“It was so lovely of you two to join us for supper at such short notice,” Angelique said, as though we had a choice on whether to show up or not. Which we did not.
If the owners of your team called you in—you went.
“Thank you for the invitation.” Jillian smiled at them.
Marcel gazed lovingly at his wife before he turned to us. “While we’re excited to have you here, we have to admit there is a petit problème that I’m sure you two are aware of.”
Angelique added her two cents, “Marcel is correct, my loves. We are very distressed about you two. Everything on social media has, how do you say—blown up—overnight since the show aired.”
Marcel grabbed his wife’s hand and nodded his head as he looked at us with a grim expression. “Yes, my wife is telling the truth. We are quite concerned with your—relationship.”
The knots in my gut tightened. “With all due respect, there is no relationship between us. That ended when Jillian gave the rose to Stuart.”
Angelique glanced at her husband. And then her head teetered from side to side. “Oui, but did it, Cash? The way you look at each other sometimes, it—well, it seems like there might be more going on.” Her eyebrows rose, and I felt a sharp stabbing sensation run through my stomach.
