"All I have is an account number. If we can track this account number to the payee, figure out who it was, we can figure out what it was for. And then I think we’ll really have what we've been looking for. Also, there is an unknown funder of one of the accounts. Payments look to be going to fixers. But I don’t know why since Middleton Communications has a whole division."
Another player? I didn’t like that at all. "Well, in that case, I definitely have to go to Barcelona with Emma."
East was silent for a moment as he mulled it over. "Oh, we all have to come. If we can gain access to his mansion there, I can have it wired in no time."
"No. You are too recognizable. You will be seen. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't even want me there, let alone all three of us. How do we explain that?"
"We’ll think of something."
I could hear the rustling of her keys at the door before she even pushed in, and I told East I had to go. When she saw me, she was startled. "Oh my God, what are you doing here?"
"I was waiting for you. All right?"
She swallowed hard, but something in her eyes softened when they landed on me, instead of the usual battle-line-drawn glare.
Whose fault were those battle lines?
"Yeah, I was just surprised."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Did you have a good meeting?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Funny thing is, I went all that way to get answers, and I already have the answers I was looking for."
"Well, sometimes you just need verification. Are you ready to go home?"
She nodded. "I'm just going to grab my purse."
As she scooted by me, her arse brushed against my cock. I cleared my throat and narrowed my gaze. “What are you doing Emma?”
The smile she gave me was pure evil, and it morphed into a smirk as she scooted by me. “Oh, nothing.”
“If I were you, I wouldn't tease me. Otherwise, you won't make it out of this office.”
“Don't you threaten me with a good time.”
I chuckled to myself as she grabbed her things. When she scooted by me again, I slid my hand around her waist, drawing her close. Her gaze slid to the front of my trousers, and she smirked. “Is that an Anaconda in your pocket, or are you very, very happy to see me?”
"I would very much like to show you how happy I am to see you."
She eyed me up and down. "As much as I would love to see your… anaconda… I would rather wait until we’re out of here." Then she tapped her ear.
Yes, the bugs. “Good point.” I leaned close, whispering in her ear as her jasmine scent wrapped around me, making me weak, making me crave. “We’ll table this until we get home.”
Emma tipped her chin up. “I’m not scared of you.”
My gaze dipped to that expanse of space between her ear and her shoulder, and I just wanted to lean in and kiss her. I just wanted more.
She turned around. "You coming, Bridge?"
Somehow, I'd gotten closer to her, and my whole body pressed up against her back. "Not yet, but we can work on that."
She giggled and took my hand. And I wish I could explain it. The simple gesture, as natural as could be, and I could almost feel the bond cementing in my blood. I loved her. I knew that much. But this felt different. Like she wrapped herself around me in the process and was finally taking over my body. And for once, I accepted it. She was mine. And I was hers.
Nineteen
Emma
Okay, fine. I would admit it. I was giddy.
Bridge made me feel giddy. My husband. Despite the danger, despite the fear, anxiety, worry, fury at Middleton, I felt, giddy. Like some kind of schoolgirl. All because the fittest boy at school was into me.
Part of me felt so clichéd. I'd had a thing for Bridge for years, and maybe a small part of me never thought I could have him. But he was mine now. And this was real. Not some fake marriage of convenience. A real thing that felt more tangible with each passing day. And we were learning to trust each other more. To depend on each other.
I wondered when we'd get to that lazy brunches and texting funny memes to each other part of the relationship. Although, I didn't really think of Bridge as a funny-meme kind of bloke. But maybe he could be. What if no one had ever sent him funny memes before? What if I needed to be the one to send him funny memes?
And then I got an idea.
Last night when he asked me what I wanted for dinner, I asked for milkshakes. He lifted his brows and picked up the phone to make a call to order milkshakes. Who did that?
And when I told him we could make our own, his brow furrowed as if he’d never even thought of it. His mother was a chef. I was sure she had made him a milkshake before.
But it turned out she hadn't. So we had fun making milkshakes. And then, well… The milkshakes got messy, and I ended up sticky everywhere, and he had to lick me clean. These things happened.
So I figured I would send Bridge Edgerton his very first meme. Me, showing him my milkshakes… and other goodies.
I was going to be in so much trouble. He’d left for an early meeting and sent the helicopter back for me. I knew if I hurried, I might just have enough time before I had to leave for work.
Teasing my husband at work was not the best idea I'd ever had in my life, but the electrical charge it gave me just thinking about him at work, having to wait hours to touch me was exciting. Thinking about the way his eyes, framed by those thick, sooty lashes, would narrow on my photo made me tingle. I could almost see him licking his lip, except he wouldn't allow himself that, wouldn't give in. In which case, of course, I wanted to make him give in and lose ultimate control.
I hurriedly shrugged off my robe then perched myself precariously on the edge of the tub. It took me ten minutes to get in just the right pose where I was propped appropriately to give the best vantage point of my tits. I arched my back just right, parted my thighs, pointed my toes, and slid my fingers between my lips as I took several photos.
Later, as I boarded the helicopter to head into the city, I giggled to myself. And now that I was in my office with my door closed, I was wondering if I had the nerve to send them. It was one thing to take them, but it was a whole other thing to hit Send. Because I knew him. There would be retaliation. Sure, it would probably be a payback I would actually enjoy, but retaliation, nonetheless.
I stared down at my phone as a hot flush started from my toes and swept its way up, concentrating itself in my pussy. And then up, up, up it crept until it hit my face. I was starting to sweat.
I stared at his name in my contacts and double-checked that I was in fact sending it to him. And then I looked at the photo. I was looking directly at the camera. My lips were parted, my tongue peeking out to moisten my bottom lip. One hand was pinching my left nipple. My right hand was between my lips and on my clit. I looked dewy from the shower with beads of moisture still on my skin. I would always, always, always thank the Van Linsteds for the lighting in that bathroom. They were vile, horrible people who deserved to burn in hell. But April Van Linsted, man, she knew how to pick bathroom lighting. It looked like a modeling photo, honestly.
I hit send before I lost all my nerve then quickly turned off my phone. As soon as it was done, I shoved my phone in my desk and dropped my face into my hands. Oh my God. What had I done? I was insane.