Please feed the cat, too.
“What did you send?” She eyes me with anticipation.
I ignore her, my concentration narrowed in on those dots on screen that twinkle, then disappear, twinkle, then disappear.
“Has she responded?” Isla presses.
Her cell finally vibrates.
Quinn:
Sure…
Pajamas? Then what sort of day clothes? You thinking comfy casual or corporate slay?
I type back.
Isla
Corporate slay. Still have work obligations to handle via video. There’ll be a tender waiting at the marina to collect everything whenever you can get there.
Then, for added femininity, I back it up with the usual compulsive gratitude.
Isla
Thanks.
I re-engage the jammer, lock the phone, and hand it back. “I’ll organize someone for the pickup. Until then, you can wait in one of the cabins.”
She shifts in her chair, making herself more comfortable. “I’m not done drinking.”
Like hell. “You’ve had enough.”
She peers up at me over the rim of her wineglass. “Is this a prelude to what marriage would look like? Because I’m starting to think being a commodity is the better option.”
A colder man would laugh. A weaker one would flinch. I do neither, but a part of me wants to show her exactly what being my wife would entail.
“Make the statement, Isla, and you won’t have to worry about either. You can have your CEO title. I’ll maintain mine. We can let our staff handle the tasks that would typically place us in the same room so we never have to see each other again. But until you fix this, I suggest you watch that mouth of yours.”
She sips. Defiant. Radiant.
Enough.
I stride forward, yank her chair back, and haul her over my shoulder.
“Wait. Stop.”
Wine spills over my jacket, the glass crashing to the wood floor and smashing into pieces.
“Put me down.” She kicks. Flails. Screams.
I carry her along the hall to the first cabin, setting her down inside the door.
She stumbles, rights herself, then launches at me, one hand flying at my throat. “I don’t care what the fuck you think you have over me.” Her nails bite through skin. “Don’t touch me. Ever again.”
I still. Freeze.
Well, not entirely. I can’t help that my dick has a mind of its own.
