Page 71 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
"Right."
"You should try it."
She glances at me over the needles.
I sidle away to the far side of the settee.
"No, thank you, I have better ways of getting rid of my frustrations.”
"Oh yeah? How? By destroying cushions?"
"I barely touched it. The surface is all smooth… Look." I pull the pillow from behind her neck and fondle the fabric.
Silky cotton, soft, yet packed with textures. Like the skin on his chest, the sheath that envelops that turgid muscle between his legs. Concentrate on the topic at hand. Ugh! I bury my head in my palms. "What am I going to do, Karma?"
"Nothing."
"Huh?" I survey her through the gaps between my fingers. Yesterday morning—after that stunt that he’d pulled on me, the asshole had stayed away from me for the rest of the day; or vice versa. I’d done my best to avoid him completely.
Which was easy, considering he’d been away from the office, or so Meredith had informed me.
She’d shown me to my cubicle, which is nowhere near his office—thank God. It is on the floor below his, with the rest of the marketing team.
Should I be thankful that he isn’t showing me favoritism, or be upset that minutes after proposing to me he was casting me aside as if I was some… piece of disposable machinery? Or a stain on his carpet that he could walk over.
Hang on a second. I am not seriously considering his stupid proposal, right? I mean, this entire scheme is insane. I slide down to the floor, then tilt my chin up. "What do you mean, nothing?"
My sister knits another stitch, "Exactly that. It's not as if he gave you a choice, right?"
"Eh?"
"Whether you like it or not, he’s going to put you through the scheme. He’s not going to take ‘no’ for an answer."
My heart begins to thud. "So what? I play dead?"
"Oh, no." She weaves the yarn between her needles, taking her time. I follow her action, trying to focus, focus—ah, hell. "Gimme that." I tear the knitting out of her hands and fling it aside.
"Fifteen minutes." She chuckles.
"Huh?"
"That’s how long you lasted this time, before yanking away my piece of art."
I snort, "It’s a scarf… Or whatever…" I frown, "What were you making anyway?"
"It’s a stole… for you."
"Oh!" Something hot coils in my chest. My sister can be a bitch, but she does love me. She has my best interests at heart, like I have for her… Right?
She snickers.
Blood thuds at my temples. "You idiot."
"You believed me, didn’t you?" Her shoulders shake, chortling sounds issuing from her.
"Gah! Can’t believe I fell for that." I spring up and onto the sofa, then dig my fingers into her side.
She laughs harder.
