My eyes slice back down to her. “Don’t tell me what I’m going to do. As long as you’re standing in this building I am your boss.”
“Well then I resign.”
“Why the fuck would you resign?” I bark out.
But Amanda doesn’t slink back the way most people do when I use that tone. Instead, she stands up, locking her eyes on mine, though she has to look up at me to accomplish it. Even in her black, heeled boots I still have a good six inches on her.
“Because we slept together,” she whispers.
“And?”
Amanda blinks.
“And…” she fumbles for a response, but I talk over her.
“Do you want the job or not, Amanda? Everything else aside, your portfolio was better than the rest.”
“It was?” There’s a lilt in her voice and it almost annoys me. The girl is good. Better than good. And she should know that. She should be confident in that.
“By a landslide. So, if you still want the job–”
“I do. Everything that happened, never happened as far as I am concerned. I will forget all of it, never speak of it to anyone.”
“Your sister knows,” I point out.
“So does Noah.”
Touche.
“He wants to talk. Keep your sister in the dark. I doubt that’ll be too much trouble since she probably doesn’t look away from a mirror long enough to recognize anyone else.”
“Hey–” Amanda tries to cut me off, but I bulldoze over it. We’re not about to get into why she shouldn’t let her sister trample her anymore. I only have the patience for one shitshow at a time.
“All of your focus will be on work. Nothing else.”
“Yes, sir,” she complies and, my fucking God, do I like the way it sounds.
“In the meantime, I will figure out what to do about the obvious issue.”
“And what’s that?” she asks.
I narrow my eyes on her. “Did you forget what else we did in Vegas?”
She blinks, clearly lost. Jesus Christ, tell me she wasn’tthatdrunk.
“We’re married,” I blurt out.
Amanda laughs and it actually catches me off guard.
Once she sees my face, which I am sure is not holding even a hint of a smile, she goes on. “What? It wasn’t real. That chapel and the ‘minister’?” she uses air quotes. “The whole thing was a joke. The guy does it for the cash. He pretends to marry us, charges way too much for a photo and a fake license and?—”
While she’s talking, I pull up the man’s info on my phone. The word ordained comes up in bold lettering.
“Oh…shit.”
“Oh shit, is right.” I shove my phone back in my pocket.
“We’re married? Like till death do us part and all of that?”
