“I take it you’re not happy about the news?”
My eyes find her. Again. Sunlight caresses her curves, which are ever accentuated by the way she cinches her apron. Her skirt flares from her hips, and… I swear. Everything about her is a drug made for me. I have never seen a woman so lovely, so precious, so flawlessly crafted with my every depraved desire in mind. “What news?” I mutter.
“This news.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, so I pull it from my ear and open the message from Forrest.
An article.
A headline.
A picture.
My stomach knots.
After four years, billionaire Damion Anders is finally back to dating. So only one question remains: who is she?
My vision zeros in on the photo. My hand. On her. While I glare back, directly at the camera.
I cuss.
“Oh,” Forrest says, voice distantly rising from the speaker, “so youhadn’tseen it.”
Moving the phone back to my ear, I hiss through my teeth, “No. I hadn’t.”
“Is she the one?”
Breath whispers from my chest. “Yes.”
“Has she seen this yet?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How do you think she’ll respond?”
I scrub my hand down my face. “I have no idea.”
Forrest hums. “I guess since she hasn’t even officially started working for you yet, it’s too soon to tell if she’s the woman you want to marry?”
No. No, it isn’t too soon to tell at all. I’ve been in love with her from the first moment she stepped foot on my porch looking like a fantasy, smiled at me, and proceeded to methodically clean this place top to bottom.
Yesterday solidified the fact she is literallyeverything. Her brain is just… It speaks to mine in a way no one else’s ever has.
But.
Also.
I’ve only been blessed with snatches of her while she’s working.
So.
“Yeah,” I mutter, “too soon.”
“I assume you called the police on the guy last night?”
“Yeah. He was gone before they showed up.”
“Unfortunate. I also assume you don’t mind that I’ve taken the liberty off-the-clock and arranged to have that place fenced in within two days and security arriving within a few hours?”
