Page 157 of Bride By Coronation

I ask, "Is there a reason you're continuing to worry about this?"

He scoffs. "You have to ask? You know what they'll do to me if they find out."

"No. They won't touch you. I gave you an order," I reiterate.

"To spy on Omni!" he hurls back.

"So you're a scared pussy now?"

He glares at me.

"You're fine. We know how to cover our tracks, and it is an order," Sean states, but Brax doesn't look convinced.

I ask, "You want off this project? You want me to find someone else to help protect the queen?"

His scowl deepens. "Of course not."

"Then shut up about your paranoia."

"I'm not paranoid."

"Aren't you?" I arch my eyebrows.

A moment of tense silence hangs in the air. Neither Brax nor I break our stare.

"There you are," Fiona chirps.

My heart beats harder at the sound of her voice, and I turn. My mood shifts to the happiness I can't seem to escape whenever I see my wife. I reply, "Hey, did you have fun?"

"I did." She beams, stepping closer, then leans down and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Aw, aren't you too cute?" Zara teases, wheeling the double stroller into the room.

"Ew, come on," Sean grumbles.

I ignore him and ask her, "Did you get anything good?"

Fiona reaches into her coat pockets and wiggles them. "I got something for you. Pick a hand."

Warmth blooms in my chest. It's good to see her smiling. She's been bored for the last few weeks, and depressed over losing her job. I keep telling her she should start her own fashion line, but her loyalty to Skylar runs deep. I can't blame her, and I respect her allegiance, but the tables have turned. If they're going to hold her new last name over her head and take away her career, then she needs to take matters into her own hands.

"Come on, you have to pick," she insists playfully.

I chuckle and point to her right hand. "How about that one?"

She pulls it out and wiggles her fingers. "Oops, wrong hand."

I groan. "I guess I don't get the surprise, then."

"Nope! Pick again." She puts her hand back in her pocket.

I laugh and point to the left one.

Her eyes light up. "Good job!" She pulls out a brown bag. She shakes it in front of my face, adding, "Guess what it is."

Amused, I question, "Is that my favorite oatmeal raisin cookie?"

She beams brighter. "It is." She pulls it out and asks, "Want a bite?"

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