mirror’s reflection. “I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but for the time being, it’s technically our money, legs.”
Spinning back around, she planted her hands firmly on her hips.
Ah, there’s the stubborn and sass. For a second there, I thought she’d packed them away for the winter.
“I won’t be kept by a man. You should know that right now.”
I scrubbed my hand down my face, weariness setting in. “Jesus, is that what you think I’m doing?”
“This isn’t a real marriage. There’s no need for you to pay for me.”
I pushed off the door frame on a surge of frustration. My long legs ate up the distance between us. I stopped just short of thrusting her up against the sink with my hips. “You’re no more or less trapped in this situation than I am,” I rasped. “Neither of us want it, neither of us are happy about it. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that we’re bound together for the duration of this deal. You’re my responsibility, which means I buy whatever shit you need. That’s part of my job here.”
“There you go again,” she mused. “Sounding almost honorable.”
I sneered at the implication. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn soon enough that it’s quite the opposite.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” I pounded back toward the door. “I’ll leave cash and my business card with my cell number on the kitchen counter.”
“You’re leaving?”
Was that disappointment I heard?
No, never. Probably just nerves. She’d been trying to hide them all day.
“I told you I have business.”
“At seven o’clock at night?”
I glanced back at her, grinning crookedly. “Already the nagging wife?”
She looked away, pursing her lips, but said nothing.
“My business never stops, legs. Don’t worry, I won’t be gone too long.”
“Lucky me,” she retorted dryly. “Have a nice night, pretty boy.”
She flipped her blond hair and disappeared back inside the bathroom.
This having a wife business was a giant pain in the ass.
I didn’t have any business.
At least nothing that couldn’t have been handled over the phone or through email. After leaving Lexi at the house, I drove seven blocks and pulled up to Cris’s penthouse.
When he opened the door, I wanted to punch the smug grin right off his face. “Damn, you look like you’ve already been married ten years, bro. You definitely work fast.”
I stormed past him. “You have no idea. The woman is about to drive me fucking insane.”
He started humming the wedding march as I beelined for his liquor shelf in the kitchen.
“Kiss my ass,” I growled.
He laughed and accepted the glass of whiskey I poured for him before pouring double—triple—for me.
“Jaz here?” I asked, referring to his fiancé.
He shook his head, bringing his glass to his lips. “Had to work late tonight. Got Fall Fashion Week coming up. You showed up just in time, too, because I was about to go to her studio and keep her company.”
I swear, the man couldn’t go more than three or four hours without seeing his woman. And vice versa.
“But I’m sensing I’m needed here,” he added, studying me with a shrewd eye. “Rough day?”
The smooth burn of the whiskey sliding down my esophagus was a welcome feeling. “You might want to grab a cigar for this.”
Following our standard routine whenever we had shit to discuss, we went out to his balcony patio that overlooked the East River. The main difference between this view and the one from my house was the proximity of the Brooklyn Bridge. It was right in front of us, twinkling brightly, towering in the night sky like a Manhattan skyscraper.
Taking seats on opposite ends of the sectional couch, Cris clipped off the end of one of his favorite Cohiba Behike cigars, flung his arm over the back cushions, and crossed his legs. Waiting for me to unload.
I slouched forward, elbows on knees, and took another pull before I began. “I don’t know what to do with her, man. What the hell am I supposed to do with a wife?”
He snorted. “Well, there’s the obvious, of course.”
My scowl returned. “That’s not gonna happen. Even if I wanted it to, she’s more likely to shoot it off than sit on it.”
He took a puff, blew it out. “I take it she’s not too enamored of you?”
“What woman would be enamored of the man she was forced to marry? The whole situation was fucked from the word ‘go.’ She has to hate me on principle alone.”
He nodded slowly. “At least you’re acknowledging her side of things. That’s a step in the