"It's for your safety," he claims.
I roll my eyes. "My safety?"
"Yes."
"There's another lie," I mutter.
"How is it a lie?" he questions.
I insist, "It's so you can control me."
"No. It's actually not."
I scoff. "Can you at least not lie to my face like I'm a moron?"
His face turns red. He blurts out, "When you step out of your car and get shot—and for no reason—then you can decide if I'm being a control freak or actually give a shit about your safety."
My gut dives. "Did that happen to you?"
He grinds his molars, then shakes his head. He lowers his voice and says, "You live in a bubble, pet. You always have. And hey, I'm glad you do. But don't ever question what I do to keep you safe." He gets out and slams the driver's door.
Ugh! What have I done now?
He walks around, opens my door, and holds out his hand.
I take it, rise, and say, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"Change the subject, pet."
"Riggs—"
"We have a meeting to get to," he states, then guides me into the hotel. He goes to the counter and checks in.
I stay quiet, and he leads me into the elevator, down a hallway, and into a suite.
"Make yourself comfy. We're going to be here all day," he announces, then pulls his laptop out of his bag.
I slide my arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.
His body stiffens.
I blurt out, "I'm sorry. I would read the contract this time."
He spins. "Why?"
I swallow hard. "So I know what I'm getting into and ask for what I wanted."
Surprise registers on his expression. "What do you want that I haven't given you?"
My pulse skyrockets, and my stomach flips.
The doorbell rings. Too scared to tell him what I want, I turn toward the door and announce, "I'll get it." I walk a little too fast to the door and open it.
"Blakely, good to see you, babe," Phil Millin booms, stepping forward and tugging me into his arms. He kisses me on the cheek.
Riggs steps next to me. His disapproval radiates off him. He slides his arm around my waist, tugging me away from Phil, and dryly asserts, "Have a seat at the table."
Phil arrogantly glances at Riggs, then saunters over to the table. He pulls a folder out of his briefcase.