Chapter 18 Shouldn’t This Come with Make-Up Sex?
SHOULDN’T THIS COME WITH MAKE-UP SEX?
Brendan
The scent of lilacs and baked goods curled around my nose the moment I walked into my office.
Simone was there, pacing back and forth in front of my desk. At the sight of her, my body felt lighter, like an invisible weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
Home.
There was that word again, foreign and unbidden.
Would it always be like this every time I saw her?
How could I make it stop?
Did I even want to?
Her hair was down today, the first time I’d seen her wear it like that. It was longer than I’d thought, almost to her waist, hanging in loose golden waves that bounced as she walked. It was so pretty, I was momentarily distracted from the fact that she was wearing yet another pair of scrubs.
This time, the sunglasses-wearing fruits were strawberries.
I frowned. At this point, the scrubs were fucking offensive. It was like dressing a Greek goddess in toilet paper. “Simone.”
At the sound of my voice, she spun and lost her balance. I rushed forward to catch her, and my hands curved around her tight waist like our two parts had been molded from each other.
My eyes dropped to those lips.
Would it hurt to kiss her again?
We were technically engaged. There was an audience outside the door. Assistants, interns, and accountants were watching us, which meant it fell firmly within the contract terms covering public displays of affection.
Our eyes met, and the anger flashing through that sky blue made me release her immediately.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “What’s happening? And what’s with the ugly hospital clothes?”
“Excuse me?”
I swallowed and tried again. “You’re later than I expected. Is everything okay?”
Her arms folded, and an adorable and irritatingly kissable crease formed between her brows. “Actually, no.”
Quickly, I rounded my desk and pressed the button for the privacy glass before sitting down. “What’s going on? Tell me.”
My heart started to gallop. A million ideas raced through my head. What if someone had hurt her? What if someone had threatened her? Who was the motherfucker, and how was I going to make them pay for what they’d done to—
“No, I’m not hurt. But—honestly, Brendan, how could you?”
Her sharp accusation snapped me out of my spiral. “What? How could I what?” I looked around the room like an answer might be found somewhere in it.
“You really don’t know?”
I braced my hand on my desk so I wouldn’t punch the window. I couldn’t take the distress in her voice, especially when I had no idea what to do about it. “Simone, I honestly don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but I need you to fill me in before I break something.”
She huffed, like a very angry baby horse. Like the deepening crease, it was too fucking cute.
“Come on, angel, help me out here.” I was going for friendly, but I sounded like an idiot.
What’s more, I felt like one.
Kindness never came naturally to me.
Even so, she seemed to melt a little when I tried (and, I suspected, failed) to smile. “There you are,” she murmured.
“Here I am?” I had no clue what she was talking about. “We done being mad?”
She straightened with a shake of her blond waves. “Not even a little.”
“Well, I can’t make it better if I don’t know what I did.”
“My job?”
“Your job…”
“Yes, my job, Brendan. The one you resigned me from without my permission.” She shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it. Like she was disappointed in me.
I honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone was disappointed in me.
The feeling was…strange. And not particularly welcome.
“You had someone call and quit for me. Honestly, who quits another person’s job for them?
Who?” She stamped her foot, but her sneaker didn’t make much of a sound in the carpet.
The effect added to the unlikely charm of her frustration that only made me want to gather her into my arms and kiss it off her face.
What in the actual fuck?
Instead, I grabbed my phone. I couldn’t start acting like a lovesick idiot, but I could at least be right.
“You signed a contract.” I scrolled through my messages with Ruth. “And we explicitly discussed that you cannot be serving drunks as my fiancée. Did you forget?”
“I’m not talking about that job. I already turned in my notice at Fez, in case you were planning to interfere there as well.”
“I assumed you had.”
It wasn’t the right answer, apparently. Simone covered her eyes with her hand and took several deep breaths before continuing.
“I’m talking about my job at the hospital. The one we explicitly discussed that I would keep.”
Just as she said it, I found the messages I was looking for. Ones I hoped would absolve me, but that unfortunately proved exactly what she was saying.
Confirm that Simone is no longer working. We can’t afford to have the press following her around there or contacting her coworkers.
Ruth:
Including the hospital or just her paid positions?
Everywhere. She’s a target whether she’s paid or not.
Well, fuck.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and did another thing Blacks were very good at: I dug in my heels. “I reconsidered. It’s just not possible.”
That distractingly full mouth fell open. “It’s not possible?”
“No. The hospital security isn’t strong enough, and anyway, your presence would be a detriment to the patients’ health.”
“What? Think about what I did for your father alone—and the other people, they need someone to—oh my God, I would not be a detriment!”
She was sputtering and pacing again now, and I found myself grabbing the arms of my chair so I wouldn’t grab her hair and haul her around the desk and into my lap. The urge to help her calm, to make things right for her, was overwhelming and very fucking disconcerting.
“Of course you would.”
For want of something to do, I stood again, and she stopped on the other side of my desk, stilled by my sudden movement, or maybe by the near foot difference between our heights.
“Look, angel, whether you like it or not, you’re now a target.
A press release went out this morning confirming our engagement, along with my appointment as interim CEO.
” I leaned in closer with every word. “My office has been fielding calls all morning. People are dying to know about the woman who captured my cold, black heart, which means they are going to be digging into where you live, where you work, who you know. They’ll be stalking your coworkers, friends, and every old lady whose hand you’ve held in the past five years.
Do you want to bring that kind of scrutiny into people’s lives? ”
By the time I was done, our faces were mere inches apart. I almost stopped myself from sneaking a glance at her mouth.
Almost.
Her lips were the exact shade of pink tulip petals.
She jerked back on a hiss. “I—of course not.”
I straightened. “Then you’ll accept a temporary leave as part of the deal. As soon as we’re done—although I’d wait a few more months to be safe—you can go back to working for free. But until then, your time is mine. Are we clear?”
She clearly wanted to argue with me but was finding it hard.
I couldn’t blame her.
Most people couldn’t manage it either.
That fact that she was even trying to put her a cut above the rest.
That delectable mouth opened and closed a few more times. God, I wanted to bite it. Suck until it bruised, until she forgot what we were arguing about, forgot everything but my name when she screamed it so loud all of Boston could hear her.
I pulled on my collar.
Simone fell into the chair behind her. “Fine. We’re clear.”
I resisted the urge to pull her back up. Shake her into arguing again. I didn’t stop to wonder why I preferred her fighting spirit to the slumped resignation I expected in everyone else.
“Tell me why it bothers you so much,” I found myself saying instead.
I rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to her. Then I grabbed her hand before I could stop myself, tugging her attention back to me.
Her fingers were slender but sturdy, with short, unpainted nails and a few faded burn scars decorating her knuckles. A baker’s hands. Capable hands.
And one of them was wearing my ring.
“It’s just…it was for me to decide, not you,” she said as we both watched my thumb travel over her knuckles. “You could have talked to me about it. I’m not an unreasonable person. I would have listened.”
Those blue eyes met mine, and the rage was gone. In its place was something unnameable. Something I realized I’d been looking for most of my life.
“I-I—” I stuttered a bit before I said the one thing I never said. “You’re right.”
Simone’s lip slipped between her teeth again, and a shy smile emerged. “I…am?”
She seemed as surprised as I was.
I swallowed. It was difficult to speak when she looked at me like that. “You are. Yes, you are. And I’ll, ah, try to talk to you first the next time I need something.”
We blinked at each other for several more moments, as if both of us needed time to let my capitulation sink in.
“Your accent,” she said softly. “It’s back.”
I raised a brow. “I don’t have an accent.”
I was rewarded with a shadow of her dimple as she fought a smile. “Yes, you do. I think it means you care.”
At that, I had nothing to say. Because I couldn’t confirm it, could I? Not when I wasn’t ready to admit anything of the sort to myself.
“Anyway, I forgive you.”
I stared at her. Why did that feel so good to hear?
It was better than confession, that was for sure.
I did my very best to erase any signs of South Boston, accents, or caring from my voice. “Listen, if you trust me, I’ll teach you. How to deal with the pressure. There are things that will make this arrangement…tolerable.”
“Like what?” Mischief colored her expression. She was joking with me again.
And I fucking loved it. I wished I knew how to joke back. All I wanted to do was keep that smile on her beautiful face.
“Well, there’s the money, of course. Not just what I’m paying you, but also the perks. New clothes, jewelry, spa services, all of that.”