Page 92 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

“I don’t think so,” I say, reaching for another crab leg. Now that the magnifying glass has shifted to hovering over me, I feel the need to distract myself. And food you have to excavate is a great way to do that.

“You answered that so quickly,” Morgan says.

“I know,” I tell him flippantly. “I don’t know if they were ever in love,”

“Ever?” he asks. “What makes you say that?”

“Just the way they talked and acted compared to couples that were obviously in love,” I answer. “They were never intimate. If they kissed, it was only in passing and only on the cheek. Never on the lips. They didn’t hold hands, go on date nights, or cuddle on the couch. My dad snored, so my mom slept in her office. She had a daybed in there. And in family photos they always stood with my sister Claire and me between them.”

Morgan thinks about that, studying me for a moment as if he is trying to understand. “So…how is it that you are the way you are?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling the rush of heat in my cheeks at the focus on me.

“I mean, look at you. You are passionate about everything. Everything you touch, taste, see, feel. There isn’t an ounce of energy that you emit that isn’t romantic in some way. How is that your natural essence after growing up in a household like that?”

I bite my lip in thought and then shrug. “I guess because I didn’t want to be like them. I didn’t want my own framed photos on the fireplace mantel to look like they were still holding the photos that came with the frame.”

Morgan smiles at that. And as he reaches for another crab leg, it tells me he’s done with this conversation. And considering it’s my day off, I am completely fine with that.

The waiter comes back to our table and asks if we want another round of drinks, pointing out that our meal in its entirety is on the house.

But Morgan just shakes his head and leaves a very generous tip on the table. “No. I think we are ready to get out of here,” Morgan answers.

“In a few minutes the sun will be going down. There might be some festivities on the beach,” he says, but Morgan just stands and holds his hand out to me.

“I think we are going to pass on that, too,” he says. “The only thing I want right now is to be alone with my fiancée.”

And while I’m not sure if it’s for face or because people are mostly likely watching and listening in, something in my chest, in my heart, tells me that it’s a little deeper than that.

Chapter 33

Scarlett

Morgan opens the door to the hotel room, and I am immediately drawn to the balcony. I can see the colors of the sunset fading against the horizon. And I know that in just a few moments, it will all be dark.

“Don’t worry,” I tell him as I take a panoramic photo. “It’s not for social media. It’s for me. I’m a sucker for sunsets.”

“You know what I’m a sucker for?” he asks, pulling me against him. “You,” he says, and he presses his lips to mine.

I kiss him back before smiling into his lips and pulling away just enough to gaze up at him. “Mr. Bale, if I didn’t even know better, I’d say you were trying to take advantage of me.”

“Don’t call me that,” he says and my mouth parts in surprise.

“You’ve told me twice that I am supposed to call you that,” I tell him.

“Yeah well, things have changed,” he says while burying his face in my neck and leaving a trail of kisses behind my ear.

“Oh, have they?” I giggle.

“Yep. Consider it a promotion of sorts,” he says.

“What kind of promotion?” I ask, even though it’s getting hard to focus on words right now considering what he’s doing to my neck.

“The kind where you’re not just an employee,” he says.

“I certainly hope not,” I tell him. “Last I checked, I’m your fiancée too.”

Morgan pulls away and looks down at me, running his thumb down my jawline and over my lips. “No,” he says. “You’re my girlfriend.”