“Next time you see him, tell David I said hello.” She turns, ready to escape, chest heaving.
“Wait.”
“If this is about wanting to spank me—“ Her hand is on the doorknob.
“It’s about tomorrow night.”
That makes her hesitate. She looks over her shoulder. “What about it?”
“There’s a dinner we’re going to. It’s with an associate of mine.”
“I can schedule your car?—“
“You’re coming as my wife, remember? Not as my assistant.”
“Oh. Right.” She flips open her planner. “Should I put it on the books?”
“Absolutely not. Tomorrow night is partially why I married you.”
“For a single dinner meeting?”
“No, but for events like it. There are people who will be judging me. People I want to… impress.”
A sly smile spreads across her face. “Prime Spadaro, are younervousright now?”
“Never in my fucking life.”
“Good, because despite how annoyed I am with you right now, you are very charming. They’ll love you.”
I lower myself into my chair and lean back. “And they’ll love you by my side. Be ready for it.”
“Is that all, boss?”
“Either come back over here and get on your knees or get the fuck out of this office so I can take care of myself.”
She groans and gets the hell out of there.
Fucking Deanna. I look at the ceiling and scrub fingers through my hair, tugging with frustration. I’m not actually going to jerk off right here and now, but I have to stop teasing myself with her. She’s right, our relationship is complicated, and we don’t need to make it worse by throwing ourselves into sex too.
Even if that’s what I want.
CHAPTER 15
DEANNA
Six bags are lined up on the bed.
Fendi. Prada. Gucci. Each one filled with clothes and perched on top of a small stack of dress boxes. I stare in pure astonishment before a glimmer of anger rustles up through my core.
“Prime!”
I find my husband in the game room, which isn’t ideal. He’s bent over the pool table lining up a shot, and I swear, he’s doing this on purpose. He knew I’d want to talk, and he’s making damn sure he’s in the one place in the house that makes me feel very unbalanced.
“Yes, darling?” His aim is perfect and a ball clatters into the corner pocket. He straightens and chalks the tip of his cue, his eyes on mine. “Something the matter?”
Don’t get distracted, damn it.
“What’s with the clothes? You’re dressing me now?”
