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“Why? It’s not like you’re going to meet him.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Chris…this is all very cute in an ‘I’m probably going to hell for this’ kind of way, but I’m not about to drag my family into…whatever this is.”
“I mean eventually I’ll have to meet them?”
“How do you figure?”
“I don’t see you as someone who wouldn’t want your family at your wedding.”
“Who said I was marrying you?!” I squeal probably about three octaves too high.
He shoots me a wolfish grin before he runs his eyes over me so sexily that I look down to make sure I’m not accidentally flashing him or something. “Me.”
My eyes move back to his and I blink at him several times in confusion. “You’re married.”
“So, you’re not okay with being someone’s second wife? That could be a problem.”
My stomach twists with nerves and excitement and confusion and I wish I was not in the small confines of his car because I want to text Autumn right the fuck now.
“You’re insane,” I say finally, before turning my head to look out the window.
His hand on mine, and his thumb rubbing over my knuckles drags my attention to where they are connected. “I know I’m complicated and asking a lot of you, but give me time to be worthy of you, please.”
I grit my teeth, wanting to say something smart, but go for honesty instead. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Okay, that was smart.
He chuckles and then my fingers are being brushed across his mouth. “Yes, thank you.”
We pull up to The Plaza Hotel and while I assumed we’d be staying somewhere nice, I was not expecting one of the most expensive hotels in the city. He pulls into the valet spot and someone is already opening my door before the car is fully in park. “Mr. Holt.” I hear from behind me and there’s a man in front of me, handing me a glass of champagne.
“Miss.” The young man says with a boyish smile. “Welcome.”
“Thank you,” I say as I lift the flute from the tray with a nervous smile.
Chris comes around the car, two people following behind him with our luggage. “You ready?” He pulls the other flute off the tray as he nods at the guy and shakes his hand more than likely giving him money. He guides me up the stairs and through the revolving door before we make it into the massive lobby which is exactly what I pictured and still I’m in awe. It screams wealth and glamor and prestige, and while I grew up very comfortably, this is another lifestyle entirely.
He guides me towards the elevator and I eye him curiously. “We don’t have to check in?”
“They gave me the keys at the valet.” He hands me my own keycard. “Should I drop you off at your room first?”
“You…got me my own room?”
“I said I would.”
“I know but…” I trail off just as the doors open and he guides me in with his hand on my back.
As soon as we are inside, flashes of the last time we were in an elevator together come rushing back and I can tell a noticeable difference in my breathing. “But what?” I hear next to me and when I turn my face, he is standing very close to me, looking down at me with a smirk on his full lips, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am.
“I guess I figured you’d tell me there was some kind of mix up and they only had one room for us.” I roll my eyes and he chuckles as the elevator dings on one of the penthouse floors.
“With the kind of money Beckham Securities spends here, they know better than to come to me with a mix-up.”
I’m grateful he’s behind me and doesn’t catch the flush of lust that heats my face in response. Why is that so hot?
He leads me towards a door. “Here you are.”
“Where…are…you?” I ask, not sure I even want to know the answer. I’m trying to sound nonchalant but I wonder if I come off very chalant.
