by Nikki Chase
“You noticed that?” I say.
“Sure,” he shrugs. “It’s my job to. I’m your husband, remember? Got to keep my wife happy. Happy wife, happy life.”
Or . . . maybe it will.
Luke
We finish up the meal. As we’re leaving the little restaurant, Abdel pats me on the shoulder, gives a pointed look at Tessa, and shoots me a huge grin. A thumbs-up, too.
“Any lady that eats as much of my food as that, Mr. Alder . . . Well, you make sure you keep hold of that one, okay? You have good taste in both food and women.”
I grin and slip him a fifty-dollar bill. “That’s for the food and the flattery, Abdel.”
Tessa’s waiting for me outside. She watched my interaction with Abdel, but she doesn’t make a comment. She’s not smiling either.
“Thanks for lunch, Luke. Are you sure you don’t need me to go back to work? I’ve still got so much I need to get to grips with.”
She’s annoyed about the little “happy wife” quip I made, I can tell. She won’t say anything, but I’ve already come to realize that when she’s pissed off she does this little thing with her nostrils, where they flare out a little.
It’s ridiculously cute, and almost makes me want to make another bad joke just to see it again. Better not push it, though.
“Nah,” I say. “You’ve had an intense first day. I’ll take you home and you can start fresh tomorrow.”
She just shrugs and we make our way back to the InFini building. She’s walking a little bit faster than me, obviously still annoyed by the comment.
I should feel remorseful, maybe even apologize, but I simply can’t. She’s just so cute.
Don’t get too attached, Luke. Remember, she’s still determined to end this marriage, no matter what. Stubborn as a mule, this one.
I can’t say I understand. We have a good time when we’re together, and there’s good chemistry between us. Why throw it away just because it was a spur-of-the-moment thing?
I’ll try to respect her decision, though, even if it’s damn hard. Sure, we can get an annulment if that’s what she wants. I’ll still get to see her every day at the office. She’ll still be working right under me.
It only takes a couple minutes to walk back to the building. I lead Tessa around to the back, where the executive parking garage is—my executive parking garage, now that I own this company.
The valet greets me and disappears inside, returning a couple minutes later behind the wheel of my silver ride—nothing too ostentatious, but still a damn nice car.
Tessa’s eyes light up. “Is that a Porsche 911 GT?”
“Yeah. You into cars?” I ask, a little surprised.
“Not really,” she says, “but I really like the way that one looks. It’s so sleek and compact.”
I shrug, pretending to play it cool but secretly enjoying her enthusiasm. “This one is my daily driver. I have faster ones back at my place. Maybe I’ll invite you around to see them some time.”
The smile on her face dies at my words, and I mentally kick myself.
She just told you she doesn’t want to be with you, remember? Try and play it at least a little cool, idiot.
We climb into the car and start driving. She tells me her address and I plug it into the GPS.
Her place isn’t too far, but not an area I was really familiar with. None of the nice restaurants or bars are there; mostly just apartments. I never had a reason to go before.
As we drive, I talk. Mostly at her, because she’s still kind of chilly with me. I list out the cars parked in my personal garage, feeling my cheeks flush a little as I realize I sound like I’m bragging, now that she’s not showing any interest.
Most girls would throw themselves at me at the mention of shiny, luxury cars, but Tessa’s different. Her silence makes me feel like I’m a rich, out-of-touch asshole.
“But I’m not really that into cars. I mean, I have a few of them, but I’d be just as happy driving an old beater.”
She turns and raises a skeptical eyebrow.
I cough. “Well, maybe not just as happy. But, you know, as long as it gets you from A to B, right?”
“Sure, I guess.”
I try and figure out why I’m trying so hard with her. I could have any woman I want, as soon as I want. What makes Tess so different from those other girls?
Oh yeah, she’s my wife.
She flicks on the entertainment system and starts browsing through my music collection. I can only catch a glimpse of her scrolling on the screen before turning my attention back to the road. I hear a little cry of delight as she sees something she likes and turns it on.
I hear the first song start and I can hardly believe my own ears. “No way! You know The XXXXX?”
“Are you kidding? I love The XXX!” Tessa exclaims. She hums the familiar tune of the intro.
“Wow.” I whistle. “Before this, I never knew anyone who had even heard of them.”
“I know what you mean. They’re not very well known. Indies don’t tend to get a lot of air time. It’s a shame because they’re a national treasure,” she says excitedly. “I saw them live in Oakland a few years back, and it was the most awesome show I’ve ever been to.”
We sing along together for a little while, and my heart soars to find this connection to her. I’ve never had the time to go see a live band like that—always too much work to do, too much to think about. It would be amazing to go and see them live with Tessa.
Maybe one day. If I can talk her out of this stupid annulment shit.
The earlier tensions melt away and we spend the rest of the drive singing our hearts out and just having an all-around awesome time. Once again, I find myself forgetting everything when I’m with her. Just living in the moment, letting go of all the usual shit I have to deal with.
Stop. She doesn’t want you. Don’t forget that, because you’ll be the one to get hurt in the end, Luke.
We arrive at her place—one of the many identical apartment buildings around here. Tiny, boxy little places.
I want to tell her that I can buy her a place somewhere nicer, but resist the temptation. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m arrogantly throwing my money around.
We awkwardly stand at the entrance to the building for a few moments.
“Thanks for the ride,” she eventually says. “And the lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
She makes to leave, but I block her path. “I can let you go up there alone,” I say cheekily. “I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
Tessa stares at me like I’ve sprouted an extra head. “It’s not like I live in the ghetto. And it’s the middle of the day. What, am I going to get accosted by a rogue door-to-door salesman?”
“My honor demands it, m’lady,” I say with an exaggerated bow. “I will escort you to your door like a true gentleman.”
She shakes her head in resignation, a small smile curving her lips ever-so-slightly, and pushes open the door.
We walk up the stairwell, and I try my best to pay attention to her words and not simply get mesmerized by her utterly stunning ass.
She talks over her shoulder. “I’ve only just moved in so it’s a little messy, I’m warning you now. Don’t judge me, alright?”
We get there and enter her apartment.
The greying wall-to-wall carpet looks like it used to be beige once upon a time. Particleboard furniture are scattered haphazardly in the small living room, along with brown boxes with labels that say things like “winter clothes” and “kitchen stuff.”
It’s a habitable space, I guess. But to be honest, it’s also kind of dumpy.
Tessa could come live with me in my mansion—even have her own wing of the house if she wants. But I can’t actually make the offer; I’m starting to get a sense of how much pride she takes in her ability to make it on her own and I don’t want her to get mad at me again.
I settle down on her ratty, old, possibly second-hand couch wh
ile she hovers around and tidies up.
“I’ve got unpacking and laundry to do,” she says, giving me a rather unsubtle hint.
“I haven’t got anything else to be doing,” I tell her. “I kind of want to spend a bit more time with you. Now that you’re my PA, I feel like we should at least get to know each other better. It’ll make work that much easier.”
And my wife. I would actually like to know my wife. That too.
“Sure, I guess. I mean, technically I’m still on the clock.” Tessa nods uncertainly and comes to perch on the couch next to me. “What do you want to talk about?”
I wrack my brains, trying to come up with something vaguely work-related, but my mind is a blank.
Her scent of wild flowers fills my lungs and all I can think about is how tempting she looks and how I can touch her skin if I just reach out my hand. Before I know what’s happening, we’re staring into each other’s eyes and I’m leaning in to kiss her.
A spark of passion ignites within me as our lips touch. I expect her to push me away and tell me to get out. But to my surprise, she leans in. I taste her sweetness, swiping my tongue over her warm, wet lips. I want to lose myself in her, grab hold of her and never let her go.
As I nibble lightly at her bottom lip, she moans into my mouth. Her breathing grows heavy and she kisses me back, her tongue caressing mine.
I reach out and pull her close, my cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric of my pants as her soft breasts press against me. My fingers fumble with her blouse . . . but then, all of a sudden, the spell is broken. She pulls away from me.
Her cheeks are flushed and her lips just slightly parted—wet, red, and puffy from my kiss. A cocktail of lust and uncertainty gleams in her eyes. My heart pounds. What is she going to do now?
“Sorry, Luke,” she says. Not a good start. “I shouldn’t have done that. It . . . it’s a bad idea. This. Us. I just . . . I can’t right now. I’m sorry.”
She looks scared. And nervous. And turned on.
I want nothing more than to reach out and kiss her again, and I’m pretty certain that she won’t push me away. She wants this too. She just can’t admit it for some reason—not even to herself.
The temptation is almost overwhelming—she’s right there, looking all perfect and positively delectable—but I hold myself back.
If we’re going to be together, it needs to be on her terms. If I push things too quickly, I might lose her forever.
“If that’s what you want, then sure,” I say, my chest heavy with disappointment. “And you don’t need to apologize.”
I stand and try to discreetly adjust my raging hard erection, without much success. I catch her stealing a glance and almost tease her for it . . . then I decide to let her stare, pretending not to notice. Maybe I’ll inspire her fantasies when she’s alone in bed tonight.
It takes me a few moments to regain my composure—and that was just from a kiss. There’s just something about Tessa that drives me fucking wild.
A thought comes to me as I’m getting ready to leave. “Do you have a passport?”
“A passport?” she asks, puzzled. “Yeah, I do. I haven’t used it in a long time, but . . .”
“Good. Make sure you bring it to work with you tomorrow. We’ve got a business trip. Pack some clothes too.” I push open the door and step out.
“Wait,” she exclaims, holding the door open with her dainty fingers that were tangled in my hair only moments ago. “Where are we going? What should I pack? You can’t just drop that on me and then leave without giving me any details.”
“Sure, I can. I’m your boss.” I cock a crooked grin her way. “Anyway, it’s just a business trip. Smart casual, nice shoes, things like that. Hell if I know, just . . . look nice, I guess? You’re doing a great job at it already.”
I leave, but not before noticing a blush creeping up her cheeks. So fucking adorable.
I can’t wait to see how she reacts when she sees what I have in store for her.
Tessa
I’m having lunch in the Eiffel Tower.
I’m having lunch in the freaking Eiffel Tower. How is this even real?
When Luke came out with the passport line after our unexpected make-out session the evening before, I had expected maybe a quick hop up to Canada for another takeover deal or something. Not a freaking private-jet flight over to Paris.
It’s always been a dream of mine to visit Paris, but I don’t recall ever saying anything in front of him. I mean, it’s not exactly an uncommon dream . . .
But still, the expression on his face when we landed and stepped out at Charles De Gaulle airport’s exclusive private-jet lounge . . . it was like he’d know the effect it would have on me.
I’m trying to play it cool. Maybe this really is a business trip. Luke’s staying tight-lipped just because he likes to tease me like a schoolboy. After lunch we’ll probably spend the afternoon in a stuffy boardroom filled with suits, just like yesterday.
Like yesterday.
It’s weird. It only took a few hours to fly over the ocean and get here. But it’s like a completely different world. The traffic, the little old streets, the historic buildings everywhere. It’s like stepping through a teleporter or something. I can’t quite believe it’s all real.
Come to think of it, spending time with Luke tends to have that effect on me. He makes unreal things happen for real. Like an impromptu Vegas wedding. Or a kiss with my new boss on my first day of work. Or this trip.
Even if I’ll have to put my professional hat on later, for now I’m going to play the tourist, soak up this ambience, and make the most of it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I can’t quite believe it’s happening to me. I’m totally blown away.
I’m trying to play it cool, to not show Luke exactly how excited I am, but it’s not easy. I remind myself that I need to remain clear-headed.
This doesn’t change anything. We’re still not staying married. It’s the right decision for my future. Stay focused, and don’t forget that.
That’s easier said than done though, of course.
I mean, I’m sitting across from Luke Adler, and he’s looking particularly yummy today. A pressed, white, button-up shirt, no tie, and an expensive suit that fits him like a glove.
Like the other female diners in this restaurant, I’m finding it hard not to stare at him. (I get stares from those women too, but they tend to be kind of hostile.)
Luke looks completely casual as he waits for his lunch, like it’s no big deal to just be eating in the Eiffel Tower restaurant after a flight on his private jet. Hell, it probably isn’t a big deal for him. He probably does it all the time.
The well-dressed waiter has already listed out all the six courses in our tasting menu, but when the food arrives I still get slack-jawed from how good it looks.
The first thing that comes is a little piece of sea bream. It’s cooked to utter perfection, and I’ve never tasted anything like it. In what feels like seconds, it’s completely gone.
I’m absolutely ravenous, hungrier than I’ve ever felt. Maybe it’s not just the food, though. I’m guessing it’s the pregnancy—at least it makes a nice change from the morning sickness.
Luke’s sipping on a glass of wine, and tries to pour some for me.
“No, thanks.” I hold my hand over the top of my glass. “None for me today.”
“Are you kidding?” He stares at me. “You’re in Paris and you’re not going to drink the wine? They serve some of the finest wines in the world in this place. This white is so crisp and refreshing, you’ll love it.”
I grimace. “The last time I drank too much on holiday, I ended up marrying a stranger. Kind of don’t want a repeat performance of that, to be honest with you.”
A smile slips onto his lips. “If you’re worried about getting drunk and doing something crazy, then don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you. Besides, it’s not like you can marry me twice, is it? What’s there to worry about?”
&
nbsp; “Very funny,” I say drily, but I’m more amused than I let on.
There’s something about Luke, a sort of carefree cheekiness, that I can’t help but smile at. In fact, I’ll have to admit, at least to myself, that I’m enjoying our little date here just a little too much. Certainly more than I expected to.
I swear I’m trying to keep this professional. But Luke isn’t making it easy.
I have no idea what came over me last night, making out with him like that in my apartment. As clichéd as it sounds, it just sort of happened. It felt . . . right. It took all my willpower to put a stop to it, and even then it felt odd.
After Luke left, I sprawled out on the spot on the couch where Luke had sat. I could feel the lingering warmth of his body and soaked it all up from the cushion before it disappeared. When I dipped my head down to sniff my old, ratty couch, I realized how crazy I was acting.
I needed to stop. So I called Claire.
I told her about everything that had happened—how Luke had hired me as his PA, how he’d taken me out to lunch, and how we’d only just got done getting hot and heavy on my couch.
“You slut!” she squealed. “Honestly, Tess, making out with your own husband! In the privacy of your apartment? I don’t even know what’s happening to you anymore. You’ve changed, girl. This is all just too damn wild. Do I need to make an intervention?”
“Shut up, Claire.” I laughed. “I’m serious! What am I going to do? I can’t keep carrying on doing stuff like this if we’re supposed to be getting divorced.”
“I told you. Why do you even want to divorce him in the first place, you idiot? I’m still going to stick with that line of reasoning. Billionaire? Check. Hotter than freaking sin? Check. Actually seems like a decent guy with a sense of humor? Check. Honestly, are you on crack or something? What are you even thinking?”
I wailed in despair. “You’re not helping, Claire! I called you for help, not for you to reinforce my bad decisions, okay? Can’t you come up with reasons for me not to stay married to him?”
