That tracks my gaze to the right and an open doorway. “That’s over there?”
He nods. “Yes. We’ll keep that door closed unless there’s a reason for me to join you in here.”
Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments.
Barring an emergency with Mr. Abdon, there should be absolutely no reason for Graham to join me in here.
Even though I kind of might want him to at some point.
I chase that thought away because he sure as hell doesn’t think about me that way.
“I suspect we have another hour or two before Lloyd wakes up.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Take some time to unpack, and then we’ll get started in the kitchen.”
“All right,” I say quietly.
This is really happening. I’m temporarily moving in with my temporary husband.
Graham brushes past me on his way out of the room. Before he reaches the doorway, he turns back. “Thank you, Miss Shaw. This means a great deal to Lloyd.”
I have to wonder if it means anything to him.
“I appreciate you putting your life on hold for the next ninety days.” He drops his hands to his hips.
“Mr. Abdon gave me an incredible opportunity when he hired me. If I can do anything to make him happy, I want to.”
His eyes bore into me as he studies me from head to toe. “He made the right decision that day, Trina.”
Maybe. Maybe not.
Lloyd couldn’t have known when he hired me that one day I’d end up pretending to love, honor, and cherish his CEO.
“That was delicious, Trina,” Lloyd says as he wipes a linen napkin over his lips. “Chicken Piccata is a long time favorite of mine.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. After arranging everything in Graham’s kitchen, including putting away all of the groceries, I knew I had to whip up something quickly for dinner.
Chicken Piccata fit the bill. I paired it with a side salad and some crusty bread.
Graham chose a bottle of white wine, and by the time Lloyd woke from his nap, dinner was ready, and the dining room table was set.
I turn to him. “I’m glad you liked it.”
My gaze wanders across the table to where Graham is seated. It was his choice to sit Lloyd at the head of the table with us on either side of him.
I had to struggle not to stare at my boss through dinner. I don’t know what it is about him in his home, but it’s captivating. Maybe it’s because, for once, he looks somewhat relaxed and at ease.
I’m anything but since I’m still playing the role of Mrs. Locke with zero experience for inspiration.
“Trina.” Mr. Abdon reaches for my left hand. “Let me see that.”
I know he’s talking about the ring because it’s larger than life. I would have never chosen an engagement ring like this. I’m a firm believer that the size of the diamond doesn’t measure the commitment.
I suppose, in this case, it doesn’t matter what the ring looks like.
Lloyd draws my hand close to his face. “This is lovely.”
I nod. I can’t thank him for the compliment because the ring feels like a weight I can hardly bear right now.
I don’t want to lie to the man who gave me a job without even checking my references. He trusted me that day. Now, I’m leading him down a path of dishonesty.
Lloyd suddenly drops my hand and pushes back from the table. “Will you excuse me for a minute? There’s something in my room that I need.”
Graham is on his feet before Lloyd is standing. “I’ll get it for you.”
“No.” Lloyd pats a hand on Graham’s shoulder. “Sit with your wife. Toast to your future and all the children you’ll have. They’ll fill this apartment with laughter and fun.”
I down a big gulp of wine because that’s way outside the realm of what I signed up for.
As soon as Lloyd disappears from view, Graham takes his seat. He raises his glass in the air. “To us and our future…”
“Don’t say it,” I warn with a wag of my finger in the air. “Marriage is one thing, but children are…”
Graham’s laughter interrupts me. “If you could see the look on your face, Miss Shaw. It’s priceless.”
I can’t hold back a grin as I touch my glass to the side of his. “To us making it through today.”
With a nod, he takes a sip of wine. “The first of many to come.”
Chapter Twelve
Graham
This feels oddly comfortable, but that word itself feels surprisingly uncomfortable.
I’ve lived alone for the past eleven years.
Technically, it’s eleven years and two months. I broke out on my own shortly after my eighteenth birthday. Since then, I’ve eaten most meals alone. I’ve spent many of my evenings at my office or in the study here.
The exceptions to that rule have been when I’ve been dating a woman, but the caveat to that is that I’ve never brought a woman home.
I’ve always readily agreed when I’ve been invited back to their apartments.
“What do you think Lloyd went to get?” Trina quizzes with a bounce of her blonde eyebrows.
I have no idea.
For all I know, he scurried away so he could give my wife and me some privacy. Not that we need it.
This is the first full day of this marriage, and although it’s not as torturous as I imagined it to be, I’d rather be alone.
Solace is my soul mate.
That’s been my motto for most of my life.
“His harmonica.”
Trina’s gaze narrows. “He plays the harmonica?”
I lean back in my chair. “Like a champ.”
Her hand moves to brush her hair back from her forehead. It’s an innocent move, but the light from the chandelier above reflects off of the diamond on her finger.
It’s an unnecessary reminder that I’m legally tied to her for the time being.
“I hope he plays it for us,” she says in an almost giddy tone.
“You’re a fan, are you?”
She battles off a smile. “Who isn’t?”
I raise a hand above my head.
“Seriously?” she asks with surprise edging her tone. “It takes talent to play any instrument and courage to do it in front of an audience.”
“Says the woman who can play what instrument?”
A breathy sigh escapes her. “None. I’m not musically inclined.”
I’m inclined to ask her to gift me with another one of those sighs because my dick took notice of that.
I’m not hard by any means, but I’m edging toward increased interest.
I’ve never seen my assistant in anything but business attire. Tonight, she’s wearing ripped, faded jeans and a blue short sleeve sweater. It’s snug, so the soft curve of her breasts catches my eye whenever I give in to the overwhelming urge to glance at her.
With her hair down in waves around her shoulders, she’s stunning.
“What about you?” She tilts her head. “Can you play an instrument?”
I sip from my glass and then wait for a few seconds before I answer. “I play the piano.”
“The piano?” That piques her interest enough that she leans forward to prop her elbows on the table. “You play the piano, or you mess around on the piano?”