Page 112 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

"You, Summer West, have singularly ruffled him. You’ve gotten under his skin to an extent you don’t realize."

"What do you mean?"

"This marriage, it wasn’t part of the plan."

"Oh."

"We tried to dissuade him."

"We?"

"The Seven." He makes a circular motion with his fingers.

Ah!I scan the faces of the men in the room.

"Jace isn’t one of us," he adds. "The Seventh, Baron, is not here currently." Saint slides his hand into his pocket, every inch the picture of a self-assured, domineering, upper-class twat. "Sinclair feels something for you. He’s so far gone in his emotions that he doesn’t realize how much he is vested in this sham."

My heart begins to thud. "What are you trying to say?" I can guess, but I want him to tell me. Want to hear it in his own words.

"You, my dear, are his weakness."

A hand descends on his shoulder. I glance past Saint to find Sinclair glaring at me. "Get away from her."

"Just a conversation, old chap."

"Anything you want to say to her, goes through me."

"Hold on a second." I huff, "I am still here."

Saint steps away, "Whatever you say." He turns to me, "Ask her, will you?"

Sinclair plants his body between us, "Here, asshole,” he indicates his face, “you direct your questions here."

Saint’s eyebrows fly up. "Possessive much?"

"Bugger off."

"You can take the man out of the gutter, but not the upbringing that clings to every part of your core, eh?"

Every muscle in Sinclair’s body goes solid. His shoulders seem to bulge, stretching the already tight fit of his shirt. He withdraws his arm and I grab it. "Don’t."

The tension radiates off of him, under his skin. The warmth of his body sinks into my fingertips, travels straight to its logical destination. My core.

I dig my fingertips into his forearm. He’s so big that I have to use both of my hands to circle the circumference of his muscle. "Please."

He leans forward on the balls of his feet; his jaw tics. "I am going to kill you for touching her."

I stare. What's gotten into him?

Saint glowers, "Getting tired of your empty threats, Sterling."

Oh, for heaven’s sake!

I shove my body between the two of them.

Sinclair glares at Saint.

I stand on my tiptoes and grab Sin's collar.