Page 77 of An Inevitable Marriage

“I don’t know, just get one of each off the menu at Bingsu Bar.”

The sound of a clicking pen filtered through the line before Tamara’s incredulous tone reached my ears. “You want the entire Bingsu Bar menu?”

“Dammit, Tamara, do I need to speak louder? Yes, I want the whole fucking menu. And while you’re at it, get me the pastry variety box at Vanilla Treats Café and whatever the chef recommends at the new vegan place that just opened up.”

There was a way too long pause. “Oh, is that all? You must not be very hungry.”

“I don’t know what she likes.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“Who?” Tamara’s pitch climbed. “Your wife?”

“Yes.”

“I have so many questions.”

“Bye, Tamara.”

Dropping the receiver back in place, I threw my head back and glared at the ceiling. How the hell could something as easy as ordering lunch be such a fickle task?

Luckily, there was no time to dwell on it. My phone rang not even three seconds later, and pretty soon, I was neck-deep in emails, color samples, and conference calls.

I hung up the last one as a knock on my door sounded. A quick peek at the clock told me it was eleven fifty-five already.

“Come in.”

Tamara walked through the doorway. The pang of disappointment that it wasn’t Snow caught me off guard.

“Lunch is here,” she said.

Waving a dismissive hand toward the conference table, I grunted, “Just set it up there.”

She was in and out for the next fifteen minutes, bringing in tray after tray of food. I might have—no, not might—I had definitely gone overboard. There was enough food on the table to feed twenty families.

Guilt stabbed through my chest.

I’d have to send the leftovers to a shelter nearby so nothing went to waste.

After Tamara brought in the last of the takeout, she stood in front of my desk with her hands parked on her hips.

“Okay, the curiosity is killing me, and honestly, it’s not good for my productivity. I need details, boss-man.”

“Tamara,” I warned.

Her shoulders reached her ears. “What? You can’t blame—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Maxwell?”

Both Tamara and I looked toward the door where the receptionist stood.

“You asked me to bring Ms. Everlee straight up to see you the moment she arrived.”

Moving aside, she allowed Snow to step into my office.

My heart just about leaped out of my chest. She was just as stunning as when she’d left me this morning.

“Oh my gosh, your wife is freaking gorgeous,” Tamara whisper-shouted.

I wanted to tell her to shut the hell up, but one, I couldn’t bring myself to tear my gaze away from Snow. And two, she wasn’t wrong.