Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I laugh at his jumping brows. “We are not having sex inside this precinct.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” he says with a teasing smile.
“It’s not,” I insist. “I’ll be back soon.”
The dress is perfect. It’s nothing more than a thin layer of teal silk, but somehow it hugs all of my curves and hides the evidence of too many carbs throughout my workday. The nude pumps are beautiful, and I feel sexy as hell as I rush out to meet Damien.
“Damn Francesca, you are stunning.” He takes my hand, practically yanking me from the precinct. “Half of me just wants to take you home so no one else can see you in that dress.”
I laugh. “And the other half?”
“Wants the entire fucking city to see you and know you’re mine.”
Mine. The word is so possessive. So hot and searing, like he’s branding me his in a thousand different ways.
The entire night is magical, from the sea-themed restaurant and the courteous waitstaff who treat us like royalty. The tasting menu is mouthwatering. Every salty, brine-y bite is something I’ll remember forever. “Wow, this is fantastic.”
Damien’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something darker. “What’s fantastic is watching you enjoy good food so immensely. The sounds you make are giving me ideas for later.”
That look sets my body on fire. “In that case, I can’t wait for later.”
His lips curl up. “Neither can I. Watching you in that dress has been torturing me all night.”
“Good.” I lean in with a mischievous smile on my face. “It’s so slinky I can’t wear anything under it. Nothing, Damien.”
His gaze is jet black and full of lust. “Check please,” he growls at the first server he sees.
“Right away, sir.”
Ten minutes later we’re in the car rushing back to the penthouse. My thighs are squeezed so tight when the car slams to a stop in the parking spot reserved for the penthouse. We both jump out like two horny teenagers.
Damien’s hands are all over me inside the elevator, sliding up and down my waist and hips before his hands settle on my ass. “Love this fucking dress.”
“Me too. Thank you, my sweet husband.” I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of saying that. Doubtful.
His kisses make me melt and too soon, the elevator doors slide open and we’re inside the penthouse. It’s been a perfect night with an amazing dinner. Now it’s time for dessert.
As if the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Damien’s phone rings. I keep my expression carefully blank because I know a call this time of night can very well be a business emergency, which means dessert has to wait. He answers the phone and then mouths the words, “I’ll be right up,” to me.
I nod and make my way up to our bedroom, slowly undressing because I’m hopeful Damien’s call will finish quickly, and he’ll catch me undressing. Ten minutes later, I’m totally naked and waiting on top of the plush bedding.
And waiting.
And waiting some more.
He’s not coming.
I know the smart thing would be to just grab some pajamas and go to bed, but I’m not that woman. I’m a detective who always needs answers and right now I just want to make sure everything is okay.
And he’s not talking to another woman.
My foot hits the bottom step when I hear the strain in Damien’s voice. “No,” he hisses. “You need to stay the fuck away.”
Stay away? I have no clue who he could be talking to, but I’m instantly wary. So many things race through my mind, the first being Jess’ words on my wedding day and the next thing is even more worrying.
The Butcher of Beverly Hills.
“No, I don’t give a fuck. Just stay the hell away from me and my family.”
Family? Does he mean me or his sister Olivia? I stand there, rooted in place with my breath caught in my chest, eavesdropping on my husband like a jealous wife.
“If I see you around, you’ll regret it.” His words come out on a snarl and when he turns, he freezes in shock at the sight of me. “I thought I told you to wait for me upstairs.”
“I waited, for a long damn time. And then I thought maybe you forgot about me or maybe something was wrong. Looks like I was right.”
He shakes his head. “No, that was nothing.”
“Liar!” Now I’m angry. “Who was that, Damien? Who are you telling to stay away from you and your family?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, the way he does when he’s forced to deal with an issue he doesn’t want to. “Francesca, please. It’s none of your damn concern.”
Those words piss me off, but they also hurt. “I’m your wife and it’s none of my concern? Wow, it’s good to know where I stand.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” he roars. “We’re having this conversation because once again, you don’t trust me. What the fuck do I have to do to get you to trust me, Francesca?”