Page 12 of The Marriage Agreement
He turns around, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me.
The kiss is explosive, wild, and magical. His tongue teases and taunts mine as it prods deeper and deeper, coaxing. Demanding. My knees go weak and I cling to his jacket as he swings me around and presses me against the door. I hear a click, followed by the support of the door disappearing.
We enter the room. Him dancing forward and I dancing back. I am aware of nothing else but him. His body. His lips. His hard erection. I rub myself against it. Fuck. I want him.
“You do?” he says.
I must have said it out loud.
“Yes,” I whisper against his lips and reclaim his mouth. My lips brush against his for a few seconds before he leans back. I lean forward, but I don’t feel his lips. I open my eyes. He is staring right into my eyes, victory shining in his.
“I knew you were lying,” he says. “You’ve always been desperate for me.”
The fire burning inside me cools in an instant. All of this is a play for him. Suddenly, I feel embarrassed about my wanton behavior. Eight years later, and I can’t resist him. I pull myself out of his arms and dart my gaze around the room, taking it in for the first time. It’s an enormous suite. We’re in the foyer and I can see the trail of petals going from the foyer to a sunken living area, then beyond the enormous bedroom with the doors open. There’s a hot tub in the corner. Bottles of iced champagne and strawberries are strategically placed around the suite. Everything in here is mocking me. My husband most of all. He incenses me. He irritates me. Smiling. Smirking. Fuck him.
I slap his obnoxious face.
Chapter 4
Ivy
“Is this the end?” Sonya confronts me the minute I enter my office. Her chef’s jacket is powdered with flour and spotted with chocolate. Her face is marred with worry. She’s always looked ten years younger even though she’s done no cosmetic enhancements, but now, all of her forty-five years are printed on her face. I can even spot a couple of gray hairs in her jet-black hair. “Should I pack it in?”
I shake my head.
“And the others? You know I’ve never fired anyone who’s done nothing wrong. I don’t think I could do it.” She held her arms akimbo. “I might have to—I might have to leave the job to you. Since you’re the boss and all.”
I place my bag on the table, take out the laptop and boot it up. I smile at her. While I want to put her out of her misery, it’s amusing to watch someone as composed as Sonya fret. My pink and white tiny office feels even smaller with both of us in it, but it doesn’t have the claustrophobic air it usually does.
“I’m not firing anyone.”
She pauses. “I—I can’t do it.”
“For someone who runs a tight ship, it’s funny that you have an issue laying off people.”
“The investor rejected the business proposal, didn’t he? Fuck.” She spits out. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I chuckle.
She frowns. “What’s that face? Why are you smiling?”
“He… accepted my offer and—” Sonya jumps, squeals like a girl, and hugs me. “So no layoffs,” she says after she lets go of me.
I shake my head. She makes an exaggerated wipe of the brow and exhales. Sonya doesn’t know the truth of how I will get the money and I want to keep it that way. All she knows is that I was looking for investors, which is true, and I found one. She doesn’t even know that I come from a rich family. I feel guilty for not telling her about my family, especially now that we’re no longer simply employer and employee but friends.
“I can’t wait to tell the kitchen. Everyone was on edge the whole week. So how did you do it? Will the new investor come to see this place? What can we expect? Who is he?”
“Uh, Damien Sinclair.” I blurt out his name because I couldn’t think of a fake one fast enough, and I cringe inwardly, hoping she will not recognize the name. Sonya’s wide eyes disabuse me of that notion fast enough.
“The Damien Sinclair? How did you manage to get a big shark like that interested in our little place?”
“He said he comes here from time to time, but usually sends his staff to order for him. You know how these billionaires are. They rarely buy anything on their own.” I look away from her and fiddle with my computer so she won’t detect the lie. “As for seeing the place, I doubt he’ll visit. He said he’s already seen it and knows that the food is good.” Even though, technically, Damien wasn’t the investor, the thought of him coming to my bakery fills me with dread and simultaneously makes me laugh.
Sonya nods and flashes a smile. “Well, thank Damien Sinclair for me. As for Mr. Real Estate. Tell him to shove it up his ass.” She leaves me in the office and her last statement reminds me to deal with the gnat that has got me into this situation to begin with.
Roddy, the owner of the four buildings on this block, wants to sell to a real estate developer unless we can afford to buy the places ourselves outright. The other three stores were able to either come up with their own funds and buy Roddy out or move to some place else. I can’t find another place as good as this one. There’s a good market for the kinds of pastry we sell and there’s a lot of space which is hard to find in New York. And besides, I’ve become familiar with a lot of our customers and it would suck if we were to change location.
It takes a couple of rings for Roddy to answer the phone. “Have you come to your senses?” I roll my eyes. Not even a hello. “Hi Roddy. I was just calling to ask how I should pay you.” He chuckles. I hear a stream of water echoing in the background and a swinging of the door. Even his voice echoes. Oh god, is he in a bathroom? My suspicions are immediately confirmed when I hear tap water rushing. Was he peeing? A point for washing his hands, I guess.
