By the time I’d scoffed down my breakfast, he was striding into the kitchen. He looked the epitome of well-groomed with his clean-shaven jaw, white shirt, charcoal tailored suit, black tie, and gleaming back shoes.
That easily, heat coursed through my blood. For the billionth time, I found myself wishing I could feel him moving inside me just once. Because I was that stupid.
His dark eyes locked with mine, and he frowned. “You look tired again.”
I wasn’t so much tired as weary. Weary of Heather’s antics, to be precise. “Good morning to you, too. Is Sam outside?”
“Not yet. We’re not going to work until this afternoon.”
“What? Why?”
“My personal shopper is coming to see you.”
I gave my head a little shake, struggling to keep up. “Um, personal shopper? Why?”
He looked at me like I was dim. “Because most of your clothes were robbed yesterday—especially the suits you wear for work.”
“I can just head to the mall at some point.”
“You’re wearing the only suit you currently own. With everything else that’s going on, do you have time for a shopping trip?”
I shifted a little on my seat. “Well, not really.”
“Then personal shopper it is.” He planted his hands on the island. “After work, we’ll visit Simon and your foster parents—all of whom have texted me, asking me to keep an eye on you; they’re worried and need to see you. Then we’ll pick up your car. And if there’s anything you desperately need from your apartment, you can grab it tonight, since the police are done searching it for evidence. The moving crew will pack and transport everything else.”
“How do you know the police are done?”
“I called the officer who took your statement last night.”
I bristled. “I was going to do that myself.”
“Now you don’t have to. Griffin said the security cameras show a hooded figure slip into the main door just as a woman exited; that same figure later left with your suitcase. But Griffin couldn’t tell whether the figure was male or female—they were careful not to look at the cameras. The police found no fingerprints, footprints, or blood samples.”
“Hell.” I drained the last of my mug, staring at him. “I don’t like that you made that call for me.”
“I can see that. But why wouldn’t I have done it? You are my wife.”
“Your fake wife. And even if I’d been your real wife, I’d still be unhappy with you taking over.”
“And I’d still have done it. You know me well enough to know that.” His gaze dropped to my hand. His brow knitted. “Where are your rings?”
I glanced at my finger. “Oh shit, I left them upstairs.”
“Why did you take them off?” he asked, like I’d committed a capital crime.
“I don’t like to wear jewelry while I shower.” I hurried back to my room, slipped on the rings, and returned to the kitchen.
Dane glared at me. “Don’t forget them again.”
“Stop being snippy.”
“I’m never snippy.”
I snorted. “Whatever.”
“I can’t believe you’ve moved out,” said a pouting Ashley on Sunday evening. “I almost cried when the moving van drove off with your stuff. Who am I going to talk to when I argue with Tucker?”
Lounging on a chair in the library while on a video call to both Ashley and Hanna, I smiled. “You can still talk to me. We’ll just need to do it over the phone.”
“It won’t be the same,” Ashley complained. “I won’t be able to come see you to talk it out. I so wished I could have last night.”
“What did you and Tucker argue over this time?” asked Hanna, sipping wine.
“The cat’s name,” replied Ashley.
Hanna’s nose wrinkled. “Huh?”
“He stupidly proclaimed that our cat likes him better than me. I said, ‘No, she’s all about her momma.’ He said, ‘Nah, I’m Snuggles’ favorite.’ I was like, ‘Her name is not Snuggles, it’s Brandy.’ He wouldn’t accept it. He insisted we’d called her Snuggles. What dumb fucker would forget their cat’s name?”
I felt my mouth twitch. Honestly, I sometimes wondered if Tucker annoyed her on purpose just so that she’d storm out and give him a little alone time.
Hanna leaned forward. “How long have you had the cat?”
“Three years,” Ashley bit out. “He has no excuse for this shit.”
“Wow.” Hanna chuckled and shook her head. “I adore Tucker but … wow.”
“I know.”
“Well, at least you have a guy of your own. I’m still painfully single.” Hanna looked at me. “It wasn’t so bad when you were single, too, but now … Damn, I’m still processing that you’re married to Dane. No, I haven’t finished processing that you’re even a couple.”
I was still processing it all myself.
“Of course, I suspected he was into you,” Hanna went on. “You’re one of the only employees at o-Verve whose ass he hasn’t chewed a verbal chunk out of, even though you’re in his company almost every day. And when that guy from marketing came onto you a little too strong—complete with groping—Dane was furious.”
Ashley’s brows arched. “Yeah? I didn’t hear about that.”
“Ooh, he reamed the sleazy fucker so hard I was pretty sure the guy would cry,” said Hanna. “Dane doesn’t yell or blow a fuse when he’s mad at you. He talks quiet and stays in complete control, but he turns ice freaking cold and systemically rips your character apart like a twisted psychiatrist. That’s why quite a few people have quit their jobs in tears.”
Dane had been super harsh with him. Really, though, he would have been furious no matter which employee was groped.
Hanna drank more of her wine. “He’s been a lot less eager to jump down people’s throats since you became his PA. You do seem to have a way of … I don’t know … soothing him, I guess you could say.”
“I know what you mean,” said Ashley. “I noticed at the barbecue that he’s at ease no matter who he’s talking to, but he relaxed a fraction more when Vienna was by his side. Like, yeah, she soothed him in some way.”
No, he was just that good an actor.
“I’m not even sure if he’s conscious of it,” Ashley added.
“Oh, he’ll be conscious of it,” said Hanna. “Dane knows himself inside and out. Knows every strength and every fault. And he can live just fine with those faults, because his psychopathy—”
“No, we’re not doing this,” I cut in, slashing my hand through the air.
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Fine. He’s a very well-adjusted, emotionally stable man.” She paused. “Are you sure you made the right decision in marrying him so soon?”
I lifted my shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“He might be a person who moves fast, but you aren’t. I’ve never known you to throw caution to the wind. Yet here you are, moving in with a guy you married after only a month or so of dating him.”