Page 42 of Strictly Business

The corners of my mouth twitch. Tossing the phone onto my desk, I try to redirect my focus to the screen in front of me.

But it’s no use. My thoughts keep drifting back to her, to the way she looked this morning, the warmth in her eyes, the way my name sounds on her lips.

This was supposed to be a simple business arrangement.

Instead, it’s turning out to be a testament to my self-restraint.

Chapter fifteen

Amara

Istep into the living room, spotting Nicholas sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, one ankle resting on his opposite knee. He looks sharp, as usual, in a suit that hugs him in all the right ways—broad shoulders, slim waist, long legs.

I gulp, my throat suddenly dry. God, he’s ridiculously good-looking. It’s unfair, really.

Three days I’ve been living here, and I’ve never seen him in anything other than a crisp suit. Not that I’d have much opportunity to. I’ve been in my room as often as possible, still too aware of how out of place I feel in this penthouse, like an uninvited guest crashing a world I don’t belong in.

The soft click of my bedroom door closing draws his attention. His head lifts, and his eyes find me immediately, sweeping over my outfit.

I tug at the hem of my blazer, feeling exposed under his gaze. Normally, I stick to my oversized sweaters, long skirts, and sneakers. But this is the first time since the engagement wasannounced that Nicholas is taking me somewhere—somewhere public. Somewhere where people will be looking at us. Atme.

So, I’ve traded my usual clothes for something more polished—a white shirt tucked into some fitted pants, a blazer draped over my shoulders, and pointed-toe heels that click softly on the floor. This outfit feels foreign, stiff… but necessary. I need to look the part, even if I don’t feel it.

Nicholas’s gaze lingers, his sharp eyes taking me in, and for a second, I feel bare, as though he can see straight through the effort. His brows lift slightly, and my face warms as the memory of him seeing me naked resurfaces.

“New look?” His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine. He sets his phone down, rising to his feet in one fluid motion.

God help me. He’s not wearing a tie today. That means his neck—thick, strong, and entirely too distracting—is on display, and it’s almost worse than when he’s all buttoned up.

I clear my throat, gripping the strap of my bag tighter. “Is this okay?” I ask, my breath hitching at his expression. “For where we’re going?”

He takes a slow step closer, his head tilting slightly as his eyes continue their journey across my outfit. “Where are your sweaters?”

His question catches me off guard. “What?”

“Your sweaters,” he repeats, like the word offends him. “You wear those oversized things to work all the time.” His nostrils flare. “Where are they?”

“I…” I stammer, thrown off by the sudden interrogation. “I thought this would be more appropriate.”

His brow arches, a flicker of something sharp crossing his face. “Appropriate?” he repeats.

“For where we’re going,” I clarify. “I figured people might look at us, photograph us, and I just wanted to look like someone who belongs with you.”

Nicholas doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me. His eyes roam slowly over my outfit again, lingering longer than they should, before finally snapping back to mine.

“I know I don’t look like the kind of girl that would be seen with you,” I continue, “but I thought at least—”

“Get changed.”

My brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I blink, my lips parting as I shake my head in disbelief. “But I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” he cuts me off, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “You think this is what I want?” He exhales through his nose. “This isn’t what I want. Not even fucking close.”

I hesitate, glancing down at my outfit. “You don’t think this looks good?”

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