and I will finally launch our new product next month, and so far, we’re having great prelaunch attention. It might also have something to do with the whole press interference.
Layla says any publicity is good publicity and it’s only fair we use the suckers who harassed us.
Taking a deep breath, I hold the box in my hand and tap on Jonathan’s office door. I don’t wait before going inside.
Since Tom’s death and Margot’s arrest three weeks ago, the two of us have been on our own in the house. Harris arranges for a cleaning staff to come, but they’re supervised by the security team. Needless to say, Jonathan doesn’t trust anyone anymore. Not that he ever has in the past.
He sits behind his desk, focusing on his laptop. I stop and stare at the way his shirt is rolled to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. He’s not wearing a tie and his top shirt buttons are undone, hinting at his chiselled chest and the raw masculinity he exudes by just sitting at his desk.
I doubt there will be a day when I won’t stop and stare at him. He owns me in every single way — just like I own him. And it’s the best type of belonging I’ve ever felt.
Jonathan and I might not have started as a fairy tale, considering his tyrant behaviour, but I wouldn’t have wished for a different beginning. If he hadn’t cornered me the way he did, if he hadn’t chased me after I ran, we wouldn’t be where we are today.
During the past few weeks, he’s been treating me like his queen — bathing me, feeding me, and even driving me to work because he doesn’t trust any other ‘fucker’. At night — and in the mornings — he owns my body in every sense of the word. He dominates and pleases me. He sets my skin on fire with every touch until I’ve turned into a complete addict.
He lifts his head when I round the table and stand in front of him. He stares at his watch. “You’re here.”
“Is that a problem?”
“You were supposed to return in an hour and I was going to drive you.”
“I can drive on my own.”
“No.”
“Stop being a tyrant.”
He raises a brow. “You like that about me.”
“No, I don’t.” Okay, maybe I do, but he’ll never know that. “Give me your hand.”
He doesn’t protest as I remove his watch, open the box, and retrieve the dark grey one I’ve been working on for months. I’ve probably had the idea for it since the first day I stepped into this house.
Its masculine design and size fits Jonathan’s wrist perfectly as I strap it in place. I stare with admiration at my work, but then I realise I didn’t ask for his opinion.
“It’s one of a kind, so you better like it. Or pretend to,” I blurt. “No, don’t pretend. You have to like it.”
He smiles, his features easing with the motion. “Are you going to mass-produce it for others?”
“No, it’s specifically made for you. I mean, I only had you in mind when I was working on it.”
“Then I’m not removing it for life.”
I bite my lower lip. “Does that mean you like it?”
“I like everything you make, but since this is specifically for me, let’s say it’s your best work yet.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers getting lost in his hair as I brush a kiss on his forehead.
“I have a present for you, too.”
I pull back at his words. “What type of present?”
“I fully transferred H&H’s stocks back to you and Layla.”
A huge grin pulls at my lips. “You did?”
He nods.
The overwhelming joy is crushed by a dooming realisation. My smile drops as fast as it appeared.
Our agreement said that he’d only transfer the stocks back at the end of the six-month period.
Those six months are almost over.
No idea why I thought that didn’t matter anymore. I swear it’s because that dick Layla has been ramping up my hopes. Two weeks ago, when I went back to my flat to get some of my things, we discovered that Jonathan now owns the building. Actually, he bought the thing soon after the start of our agreement.
The fact that he was able to waltz into my flat that day I fainted made more sense. Then Layla told me that if he bought the fucking building I live in, Jonathan has long-term plans for me.
Apparently, that’s not the case.
“So what now?” My lips tremble as I