Page 50 of Bride on the Dotted Line

“Oh. I see.”

“His—um—his old friends are visiting him. They told him a PI called each of them asking questions about our family last week.”

I lift my head to look at her. “A private investigator?”

“Yeah. Nobody knows who he works for.”

My shoulders go rigid. The tabloids are always intrusive, combing through social media and contacting people for statements, but a PI? What gossip mag has the resources for something like that?

“It could mean nothing,” she says. “Or they could be looking into …”

“You,” I finish for her. “Nick Harwood’s new wife.”

She fiddles with her hands, her wedding ring spinning around and around on her finger. “It’s okay—we knew I’d attract questions. I’ll lay low for a while. You’ll be in Fiji in a week or so. If I keep a low profile until you get back, and we don’t spark any more attention, there won’t be a profitable story to publish. Even when they do connect me with my dad.”

“Good.” I’m not sure what else to say. “Okay.”

Heavy silence stretches between us. She lets her chin fall to her chest, examining the floor. All I want is to gather her up in my arms, take her into my bedroom, and finish what we started. But we shouldn’t. It would violate the contract and bring our whole agreement plummeting down.

Do the right thing, Nick.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “It was me.” Her throat moves, barely visible in the dim light. “I think it’s obvious we’ve gotten a little carried away.”

“Just a little.” The feeling in my chest is inexplicable. It’s tense, scorching, and deeply unfamiliar, like I waded into uncharted water too deep to swim back. Like I found a rare flavor that changed my brain chemistry, and I can never return to the way I tasted before tonight.

And fuck if Sienna’s not gazing at me like she feels the same way.

“I’m not usually the kind of person who hesitates when she wants something,” she says. “Just so you know.”

Fuck—there arebutterfliesin my stomach. What is this woman doing to me?

“Sienna.” I offer her a hint of a smile. “I’m not usually the kind of man who does things on impulse. I’ve thought about you for a while. That’s not why I asked you to marry me, obviously. I just …”

“I know. It surprised me, too.” Her eyes are round, lips pinching at the corners. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the contract ends in a few months. Maybe we should … revisit this topic then.”

The topic of my mouth on her neck, of her moans in my ear, of my hand under her dress.

I clench my fists on my thighs. “Yes. Um—yes. I’d love to circle back.”

“Good.” Sienna gathers her things from the floor, then faces me with that hungry expression again, and I think,that one.That’s my favorite of all the looks she’s ever given me. “Thank you for tonight.”

I nod at her, and she disappears through the door to the hallway, the train of her gown slipping out of sight. And when I stand to go to my own room a few minutes later, I find her panties draped across the bottom step of the staircase, waiting for me.

Chapter 17

Sienna

Laying low, it turns out, involves a lot of working from Nick’s guest room, eating chocolate chips straight from the bag, and obsessing over my phone.

I spend each morning counting the new headlines that come out about our marriage, waiting for the number to ebb so I can relax and resume daily life without worrying about the tabloids.

Who Is Nick Harwood’s New Wife? Everything We Know, and Everything We DON’T Know

Taming the Heir: How Nick Harwood Went from Scandalous Playboy to Loving Husband

Billionaire Nick Harwood Ties the Knot—But Has He Really Changed?

---