Page 119 of Unlock My Heart

“Damn, you’re beautiful, even when you’re scowling at me. I need to write that down.”

“Pretty words mean nothing, Fabien,” Sienna says dismissively.

“Words backed with action; I get it.”

“Doubtful,” she retorts.

Peacock dog owner clears his throat. “Fashion show, not therapy session. Save your marital problems for when you get home.”

“If you want to pick your teeth up from the runway, butt into our conversation again,” I warn him, giving my knuckles a crack.

He holds up his gloved hand, returning to minding his own damn business.

“Is this the patience you were lauding earlier?” Sienna taunts.

“Yes, because I didn’t knock his teeth out,” I argue.

“You’re hopeless,” she decides with a heavy sigh.

“A hopeless romantic.” I grab her hand, bringing it to my lips and pressing a kiss.

“Sonnets and threats of violence.” She snatches her hand away.

“Positively Shakespearian,” I agree.

Her eyes sparkle with challenge. “So you admit we’re a tragedy?”

“The only thing tragic is that we haven’t consummated this marriage,” I counter.

“No wonder you two are having problems. Honey, if you don’t want under this man, I volunteer as tribute.” Peacock dog owner pipes up.

“Are you going to knock his teeth out, or should I?” Sienna tells me hotly.

Laughter vibrates my chest.

“Minding my business,” Peacock dog owner says.

The lights dim, and the show begins with the first model strutting down the runway. But my eyes stay on Sienna, who’s completely enthralled. “Watch the show, not me.” She leans over, her sweet breath tickling my ear.

With my arm draped over the back of her chair, I cop of feel of the ends of her locks cascading down her back. Wasn’t lying in my letter; I’m obsessed with her hair.

“And stop touching my hair.”

My fingers drop to the back of her chair as my knee bumps into her bare one. She shoots me a look. “What?” I whisper. “You told me to stop touching your hair.”

“Shhh.” Peacock dog owner whisper-hisses at us, risking the loss of his teeth.

“Stick a feather in it,” Sienna whisper-hisses right back at him, and I chuckle softly.

The show comes to a conclusion, and I take Sienna’s hand over her protest, leading her through the VIP backstage area and to the designer.

Introductions are made, and the designer tells Sienna, “A little birdie tells me you’re a NOCAD student.”

Sienna nods. “I’m focusing on lacemaking, with veils my speciality.”

This is news to me, but it’s not surprising. Sienna and lace go together.

“I’ve got the perfect connection for you.” She writes down a name and number on the back of a card, handing it to Sienna. “Wedding dress designer. Perhaps you two could collab.”