Page 5 of Jameson Fox

I nod and watch him leave.

Once we hear the elevator close, Adeline removes herself from me and says, “He just told me he wants me at that dinner, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m guessing the Brown deal isn’t one you’d want anyone but your actual wife knowing the details of.”

“Correct. He’s testing me.”

She tries to hide her smile but isn’t successful. “This year might be fun after all.” She pauses before adding, “I’m going to bed now. In my bedroom.”

“Your bedroom?”

Her defiance is bright in her eyes. Unmistakable as she says, “Yes,mybedroom. And when you ask Shantel to book that dinner, also have her find someone to remodel our closets.”

I reach for her as she turns to leave. “We have a contract that very clearly states you’ll live with me for twelve months as my wife. As far as I’m concerned, wives sleep in the same bed as their husband, regardless of whether they’ve fought or not.” I pause, my eyes boring into hers. “If you want your company returned to you at the end of our contract, you’ll sleep next to me for the next 365 nights. And I’m not remodeling. You’ll make it work.”

Without waiting for her response, I let her go and stride back into my office.

I won’t be going to bed for some time. I need space from her attitude, her body, her. All of it is fucking with me in ways I don’t need to be dealing with. The only thing standing between me inheriting the company I learned the ropes at is my ability to withstand Adeline and I’ll be damned if I don’t succeed at this.

2

Adeline

My husband is the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on and that pisses me the hell off.

The worst thing about it is that he doesn’t even have the look I’m usually attracted to, and yet I find it hard to drag my attention from him.

He wears his dark hair in a man bun.

I fucking hate man buns.

Just cut your damn hair, for God’s sake.

Almost half his face is covered by a beard I’d rather not let anywhere near my skin.

Don’t men know this is why razors exist?

And don’t even get me started on the ink ruining that tanned skin of his.

Jameson’s tattoos run the length of his left arm, down to his hand.

I have no idea what they’re of.

I haven’t bothered to take a good look. Possibly because I can’t remove my damn eyes from the rest of him.

The list of what I do like is far longer than what I don’t.

Arm and leg muscles that annihilate my ability to think straight.

Hands that distract me at every turn.

I mean, what is it about men’s hands?

I can’t even begin to understand my attraction to them.

And don’t get me started on his lips, his cheek bones, his eyes.

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