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“Are you talking about sex, Erin? How naïve are you?!” her brother exploded.

Refusing to answer that question, she asked one of her own, still trying to calm him down. “Tell me something, Damian. All this bad stuff you know about Max, do you know anything good?”

“Good? The guy’s not good—”

“You said that he was a good businessman,” she said neutrally.

Her brother let out a resigned sign. “Yeah—he’s made a lot of money, I’ll give him that. He’s self-made, if that means anything to you.”

“Have you met him?” she asked, really wanting to know the information.

“No, but Garrett has.”

“And?”

Her brother snorted. “And? He doesn’t trust him. He’s going to go ballistic when he finds out about this, Erin. “

Erin sighed. Like Damian wasn’t going ballistic? This wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Look, I’m not ready to give up on this and come home—”

“Then I’m coming there—”

“No! I already told you no. All three of you guys need to stay away for a while. If there’s bad blood, how can that help my marriage?” She heard her brother make a growling noise under his breath so she was quick to try to appease him. “How about a compromise? Let me have a few weeks for a honeymoon, then you can send Mom. You’re always trying to get her out of your hair anyway, and she likes to travel.”

He ignored her suggestion as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’m coming to get you—”

“Damian! Quit acting as if you can control me! I’m not a child—I have a husband! And whether you like him or not, he’s not going to sit on his ass and let you waltz off with me!”

Erin heard no answer to that, only pissed off breathing, so she offered again. “Look, send Mom if you want.”

“She won’t come alone, you figured that out already, right?”

Not entirely understanding, Erin said, “She’s never been afraid to travel by herself.”

Her brother made an annoyed sound and then said, “No, but that goddamned Rick isn’t going to let her leave the country by herself, I guarantee you that.”

Sudden understanding went off like a light when she thought of her mother’s new boyfriend. Boy being the operative word. In his early fifties, there wasn’t anything boyish left about Rick Harris, and the last few months he’d been pacing a circle around Erin’s mom as if he had a new plaything that he wasn’t about to share. Erin appreciated Rick, she liked him, but her brother was right—there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell her mother would be making a trip to Argentina alone. “Rick can come—I like him.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds as if Damian were thinking things through, and then he suddenly agreed—and more amicably than Erin had expected. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll let them know, but I promise you, Erin, when they get back, if there’s a bad report, you’re coming home, whether you want to or not.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

“Take care,” her brother responded.

“I will, you too. Love you,” she replied.

“Love you too, kiddo. I’m a phone call away if anything goes south . . . don’t hesitate.”

“I won’t.” As Erin ended the call, she tossed the phone down in frustration and turned her undivided attention to Max. “What do you want?” She asked belligerently, too pissed to stay focused on her ultimate plan of winning.

His muscles steeled; his eyes narrowed as he stood to his full height, coming off the door. “What do I want?” he asked way too politely, faking a confusion she damn well knew he wasn’t feeling.

She remained silent and slowly, he began walking toward where she sat on the bed. “I didn’t know I needed a reason to be in here.” He leaned nonchalantly on the poster of the bed as he stared down at her. “It’s my suite, love.”

Her temper soared while a trickle of unease clawed through her system at the way he was watching her. “Fair enough—where shall I put my things?”

“Your things will remain here, as you damn well know.”

She jumped from the center of the bed and, uncaring of her lack of grace, landed on her feet on the opposite side from him. “That’s not fair.”

His jaw flexed as he swiveled to face her. “We are married, therefore, we sleep together.”

“But I need some privacy!”

He began tracking her across the carpeted room. “We’re not going to have separate sleeping quarters. Think again.”

Erin found herself biting her lip in frustration. It wasn’t fair. He had his own office to retreat to, a door that closed and even locked if he felt the need. All she wanted was a space, even a small space would do, somewhere she could lick her wounds, knowing she wouldn’t be interrupted. “You have an office. I’d like my own space—” suddenly realizing how important this was, she bit her lip and amended, “Please.”


Tags: Lynda Chance The House of Rule Billionaire Romance