He frowned at that. His mouth opened to respond but I’d knotted his tongue. I held out my hand and he automatically grabbed it. Once I’d pulled myself up to a sitting position, I tilted my head.
“Since we don’t have to worry about protection, maybe we should retire to your bedroom.” I nodded toward the open door. “See what comes up.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint my wife on her wedding day,” he joked but motioned to the bedroom.
The Work Begins
Ian
Emma slept, snuggled against my shoulder. Her arms wrapped around mine. Her thighs had captured my hand. I’d woken at least a half hour earlier and I couldn’t stop staring at her.
Sleep gave her face an innocent cast. Relaxed closed eyes hid the Turner blue and her incredibly cynical look at the world. It softened her features, allowed me to see the extent she kept her expressions under control when conscious. I needed all the insight I could get with her. That was why I couldn’t take my eyes off her sleeping, no other reasons.
The plan had succeeded. I had the signature; a quick visit to the Chambers then the church and it’d all be legal and on the books. It was cause for celebration, but I’d been so off about Emma. She surprised me, continued to keep me guessing. Infuriating and exhilarating in equal measure.
When she’d shown me her cynical side, described her philosophy of a transactional animal, I knew she’d have a price, but had assumed that would be it. A woman who thought all human interaction was contractual, a payment for services rendered, wouldn’t give it away for free.
She’d signed the papers, I’d paid her the agreed amount, our contract concluded. Then she’d kissed me. A shock, unexpected, but not unwelcome – far from it. She’d intrigued me by then and Bashir had spoken the truth. She was a looker, a flexible and energetic one at that. I started stirring at the thought. Round four?
Emma snorted. Her head shot up and darted back and forth, sleepy eyes taking in her surroundings. Her lips pursed.
“Morning?” I greeted but it had turned into a question by the end.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sleep deepened her voice, added a sultry tone.
“Like what?”
“Like a tweaker drooling over his next fix,” she replied. “It’s creepy.”
She disengaged with my arm and rolled to the edge of the bed. She sat up, kicking the covers away. I stared at her naked back as she rolled her shoulders and shook the sleep out of her head. It seemed the honeymoon was over.
“I need to get back to the hotel,” she yawned. “Probably shouldn’t have turned off my phone last night. My mom’s got to be shitting bricks.”
“I’ve got a few errands to run, I’ll call a cab,” I offered.
Emma’s head darted around. Those blue eyes probed me. Her frown returned but I spoke before she could.
“If she’s anything like her daughter, I don’t want to get on her bad side,” I argued, hands up. “She’s my mother-in-law, after all. It is in my best interest to get you back to her. If it makes you feel better, you can pay for it. You’ve got the money.”
“You offering to pay doesn’t make me feel bad,” she said, standing from the bed and stretching, not a care in the world about her nakedness (not that I minded, not at all). “Just want to know what you get out of it. I’m going to get a quick shower first.”
A half hour later, we were sitting in the back of a cab on a silent journey to her hotel. Emma kept her eyes out the window. I tried to keep my eyes off her, tried to focus on my next steps. We wouldn’t see each other again until it was time though. I used that as an excuse when my eyes drifted her way.
The cabbie turned onto the hotel’s street. Its revolving door sat closer to the next block but her mother stood nearby. Worse, she stood next to both her stepfather and Dominic fucking Turner.
I almost yelled to the cabbie to stop where we were but I remembered the arguing trio in front of the hotel were all strangers to me – at least they should have been. Emma had already signed, but everything could still come crashing down should she learn the truth too early. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who noticed Turner.
“Shit,” Emma muttered before yelling to the cabbie. “Can you let me off here?”
She offered me a shrug as the cabbie complied, then a tilted-head smirk.
“You better not leave me hanging,” she said, waggling her finger before hopping out the door.
“Stay here for a moment,” I told the driver.
I slid across to the seat Emma had vacated. She moved up the sidewalk in a sedate pace. Her shoulders rose and fell with a couple of deep breaths. As I watched, my hand slipped into my bag and pulled out the parabolic mic. I’d just pointed it at Emma when her mother noticed her and ran toward her.
“There you are!” the older woman yelled before all but leaping into Emma’s arms. “I know you can handle yourself, but you have to return my calls. At least text me.”
