Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,84
be a bad girl?”
“Maybe?”
“Fuck, you’re amazing.” He kissed me, slow and deep. “And don’t worry about her. If she did see, it’s her own fault.”
“Sorry if I made things weird.”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “She should know better. Look at you. Of course I’ll be fucking my wife every chance I get.”
I laughed softly, trying to hide the little bit of hurt I felt every time he called me his wife.
Because it was still a joke to him. A way to tease me.
It had been funny at first. Not so much now.
But he smiled at me and kissed my lips again, and I didn’t want to ruin it. So I just kissed him back. And I didn’t say what was really on my mind. That, stupid as it was, I was in love with him.
Because I was too afraid he couldn’t say it back.
29
Cox
Goddamn, I was in a good mood. Monday morning had started with good news in my inbox—Skyline was well underway—and a productive meeting with my lead architect. I loved seeing the pieces of a project come together, especially one as big—and expensive—as this.
But mostly my state of mind was due to Sophie.
Whether it was introducing her to my mom or the hot afternoon we’d spent in the bedroom—probably both—I felt fucking great.
Even Althea’s icy expression when she walked in my office didn’t bring me down a single notch.
Although as soon as I caught sight of her face, I knew Sophie had been right. She’d walked in on us yesterday.
Exhibitionism wasn’t really my thing, but I didn’t really care that she’d seen us. Like I’d told Sophie, it was her own fault. Hopefully she’d just let it go.
“Morning,” I said.
Her nostrils flared and she pushed my door closed. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”
“What else would you like me to say? Ask you about your weekend?” I crossed my arms. “How was your weekend, Althea?”
“You’re sleeping with her.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Since when is who I sleep with any of your goddamn business?”
“Since you got married with no prenup.”
“This again? For fuck’s sake, Althea. I have this under control. Sophie isn’t going to try to get half my assets. She and I already have an agreement. We’re fine.”
Her eyes widened. “What agreement? Is it in writing? Why didn’t you let me look it over first?”
“It’s not in writing, but if it’ll make you feel better, you can whip something up for me.”
“How much are you giving her?”
“I’m buying a house for her father.”
Her brow furrowed. “What? Why?”
“Because he needs a new place to live and that’s what she asked for. I’m probably making an offer on something this week, but I need to bring Sophie to see it first.”
“She asked you to buy her dad a house? That’s it?”
“It’s almost like she’s not the gold-digging harlot you assumed she’d be.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m just trying to make sure your interests are protected.”
“I know you are. It’s your job. But I need you to trust me when I say Sophie isn’t a problem.”
“I still think sleeping with her is a bad idea.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I fail to see what could possibly be wrong with sleeping with my wife.”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s not your wife.”
I stared at her for a second. I knew what she meant. She was only legally my wife because we’d done something stupid in Vegas.
But had it really been stupid?
“Knock the next time you come over,” I said, my voice cold. “That’ll spare you from seeing anything you don’t want to see.”
She let out a breath. “I’m sorry for intruding on your privacy.”
“Why did you come over yesterday?”
Her mouth opened, but she hesitated before replying. “It was about Sophie, actually. When do you want me to draw up the paperwork?”
My jaw hitched. The divorce paperwork. It was a reasonable question—filing for divorce had always been the plan—but hearing Althea bring it up made me irrationally mad. “We’ll deal with that later.”
“Later? We both know there’s no reason to wait anymore.”
“I said later.” I held her gaze. This wasn’t up for debate. “Was that all?”
“That was all.”
“Good.” I stood and pocketed my phone. “I’m meeting the foreman down at the job site in twenty minutes. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
Without another word, I swept past her and left.
It had been a busy week at work, and normally a charity fashion show featuring rescue dogs wouldn’t have been high on my list of ways to spend a Friday