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“Would you like for us to argue?” Is Warren teasing me?

“Shut up.” I laugh. He really does make it impossible. “But in all seriousness, Marks is my friend.”

“Your friend that makes you use an app so that no one can track your texts or calls.”

“They don’t need to be tracked. I’m not doing anything, so what does it matter?”

“I don’t need an app to track you. I can do that on my own.” This is true. I can’t sneak out of one window without him popping up.

“How do you run an empire and stalk me at the same time?”

“It’s a skill set.” He smirks! Freaking smirks, and it's sexy as hell.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“Because we’re trying to argue?” I press my lips together to try not to laugh.

“Is this you dodging my questions?”

“This is me enjoying my wife’s company.” Warren leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out.

"Please tell me what's going on with Marks. She really is my friend." Warren lets out a loud breath.

"Why do you think she would have you use this app? You don't find this strange?"

"I don't know." I shrug. "I downloaded a few apps when she and I became friends. Discord and another. It's for video games."

"That app has nothing whatsoever to do with video games. You could speak to her on Discord or normal texting. The Signal app is meant to keep messages private and untraceable.”

"You don't need to track Marks."

"When did this Marks become your friend? Was it before or after you moved to the farm?"

"After," I admit. "It can be isolating out here. I joined a few book clubs and met her in one."

“She’s a hacker.”

“I know she’s talented with computers.” I shrug. Once she was able to fix my laptop without physically touching it. It was kind of badass. I keep that to myself. I'm already trying to dig Marks out of a hole right now. “Doesn’t mean she's going to hack me. There's nothing to hack. I don’t even have a bank account.”

“She wouldn't be trying to get information on you. Except maybe now.”

“What? I’m not a desirable hack? Now my stock rises when I marry you,” I tease halfheartedly.

Warren leans forward, his elbows going to his knees. “Did you have stocks before?”

“No, I don’t know anything about stocks.” Now I feel dumb; maybe I should know these things. “But I can do a mean backstitch by hand.”

“I know, little mouse.” He reaches out, grabbing one of my ankles that I was swinging back and forth to rest in his lap. “You have many stocks now, so rest assured."

Before this second, I didn't give stocks a second thought, so I'd been resting fine without them—or, I suppose, with them.

“Do I get them in the divorce?” I sass. His hold on my ankle tightens. “I’m joking.”

“A joke is funny.” I snort a laugh and quickly cover my mouth with my hand. He narrows his eyes at me. If that’s meant to be a warning of some kind, he’s going to have to come up with something new. “Tell me, you said you’ve desired me for a long time. Does she know that?”

“Desired? It’s called a crush.”

“I don’t think what I felt for you was a crush.”