Page 112 of The Wrong Sister
Because it ends when it reaches the finish. And I don’t want it to end.
44
Maeve
“Where to, ma’am?” George asks, holding a door for me when I come out of the building.
My legs are still shaking from the view I just got. Ezra King falling apart in my arms—and my mouth, if one wants to get technical. If I get to have a powerful man like Ezra yielding to a slight snap of my wrist and flick of my tongue, I could perform my wifely duties all day every day. Him returning the favor right there, on top of his desk, didn’t hurt either.
I never thought being eaten out in the corner office overlooking New York was one of my fantasies. Until it was fulfilled. Turned out it was indeed my fantasy, and now it has become a part of my everyday bucket list. I should make these trips to his deserted office more frequent. One day, when I help him get his building back, it will turn into a celebration feast for the both of us. And I can’t wait.
“Ma’am?” George repeats with a sly smile. It’s like he knows what I’ve been doing.Wait, maybe he does.I subtly touch my cheek only to find it flaming hot. Yep, he knows.
“Twenty-Fifth Street,” I reply, looking away from him.
He pauses before asking, quickly losing all playfulness, “Where to on Twenty-Fifth?”
“I don’t know yet,” I reply with a smile. “We will have to figure it out on the spot.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
I look up at him before he closes the door. “You know what, George?”
“I don’t, ma’am.” His face is humorous.
“I think I’m beginning to like you.” I circle him in the air with my hand. “All this let’s-go-no-questions-asked thing is enticing.”
His face stretches with a smile. “The feeling is mutual, ma’am.” Then he adds with an even wider smile, “Besides the talking part.”
I smile back and dig into my bag. I need some cash and groceries.
“George, can you please stop at a grocery store first?” I ask when he’s back in his seat.
“Of course, ma’am.”
On the way, we stop at the store, and George helps me carry a basket. I fill it with some necessities and sandwiches, use my new card, and take cash out.
When we turn the corner of Twenty-Fifth Street, George asks. “Where to?”
“Just drive slowly by the curb.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I really like that—no questioning my weird requests.
We drive down the whole street, but I don’t see Jeff anywhere.
“Change of plans.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and poke myface between the front seats. “Can you stop over there?” I point at the bus stop next to Lulu’s house. This is where Jeff usually found me waiting for him.
George stops the car, and I open the door. “I’ll be back for the groceries.”
“Mrs. King?”
“Yeah?” I hate how easily I’ve gotten used to being called that.
“Are you sure?” He looks around, seemingly worried. “The neighborhood doesn’t look safe.”
“It’s fine.” I wave him off. “I used to live here, and I’m fine.”
“Alright.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll be here in case you need me.”
