I instantly regret saying it.
Nathan’s head snaps toward me, jaw clenched, brows slamming down.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Sparky?”
It’s the first time he’s called methatsince we were kids, and I get shivers at the sound of my old nickname on his lips.
It’s not sexy or anything, but there’s just something about the intensity flaring to life in his blue eyes when he says it that just—bam—slams right into my chest.
His voice is low and sharp.I don’t know if he’s angry at me or at the idea itself.And for a moment, I stare at my napkin like it might save me.
Somehow, I manage to pull up my big girl pants, and I meet his gaze.
“I just—look, you’re a rockstar.You should be with a supermodel or something?—”
The moment I say it, insecurity floods me—loud, ugly, merciless.
I’m too curvy.
Too soft.
Too normal.
Too me.
I’m a good person, I know I am, but good people don’t belong next to rockstars.
They don’t marry them.
Not in real life.
Nathan leans closer, and his voice drops to a gravelly rumble.
“Listen to me, because I’m only saying this once—you are a fucking knockout, Adrianna Thorn.No one has a goddamn thing on you.”
My name in his mouth.
The curse words.
The heat.
It sends a shiver straight through me.
“Nathan—”
“What?”he demands, softer but still fierce.“It’s the truth.And why the hell would you think otherwise?”
“I mean, okay.Hear me out?”My voice is tiny.“You got all stiff when we walked in.And people were staring.And I know you married me for Bella, for the custody case, and I just— I was trying to give you an out.To save you from the ever watchful public eye.”
Mortification burns through me.
I feel raw and embarrassed.But goddamn it, who wants to ugly cry in a Michelin-star restaurant?
He inhales sharply, then he drags his chair over so he’s right beside me, and he leans in until his breath brushes my cheek.
“First off, I’ll tell you the real reason I married you later, Sparky, when we’re all alone.”
My stomach flips.Hard.
