AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Would you have given her a child?”
“If she wanted one.”
“Why is she any different from any other woman?”
“Because I would’ve given her anything she wanted.”
“I still say you’re in love with her,” I point out.
“I’m not, trust me. It’s long over.”
“It doesn’t seem over.”
“I’d rather not discuss her any longer. Erika is a dead subject.”
My chest tightens at the raise in Foster’s voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. I prefer not to rehash ancient history.”
Once again, we are interrupted by Foster’s cell, and he holds his finger up while he answers the call. I glance out the window, trying not to listen to his call. The uncomfortable throbbing between my legs had abated, but my thoughts wander to a place they shouldn’t be—what Foster would be like in bed. Our union wasn’t for love, it was business, and the minute I let my heart get involved, it would be trouble.
Foster remains on the phone until the limo pulls up to his building. He reaches out and strokes my hand with his fingers.
“Time to go.”
Peters opens the door, and Foster slides out first, offering his hand to me as I step onto the pavement. In the twenty-minute trip to his apartment, the wind picked up and now ruffled my hair with a gust. A storm was moving in.
“Let’s get inside,” Foster says. He curls his hand around my upper arm, and a feeling of warmth and comfort come over me. “You never told me what you want for dinner.”
I sigh, responding, “I only want to get the particulars out of the way.”
Foster frowns. “Am I really that unpleasant?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. Getting everything right is nerve-wracking.”
“You will, you’ll see. I’m sure we can be convincing.”
As we enter his penthouse, drizzle flecks the glass of his terrace, and lightning lights up the darkening sky.
“Peters will take you home,” Foster speaks up.
I smirk. “Trying to get rid of me?”
“Not at all. I want to show you your bedroom. You can decorate it any way you like.”
“Suppose we have company?”
Foster removes his suit coat, draping it over one of the padded dining chairs. “I rarely have people over. This is my sanctuary.”
“But we’ll be married, and married people entertain. This is a lovely place.”
“This works along the lines of holidays, I’m assuming.”
“Why are you so distant?” I throw back.
“It’s the way I was brought up. If you’re expecting warm and fuzzy, I can’t give that to you. I’ll be cordial and polite to our guests, but that is all.”
“Christ,” I mumble. “What did I get myself into?”
