Page 128 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

A knock sounds. I walk through to my main office and fling open the door. A girl—an intern? How many of them do we employ?— walks in.

She glances at me and her cheeks redden. She stands there, blinking. I point to the desk and she walks toward it. Drops the books on the wooden surface. She straightens and Saint enters the main office.

Her gulp is audible. Her chest heaves. Here we go again. My presence can be overwhelming on its own. Then add in Saint, and the entire area is a pheromone kill zone.

"You may leave now, Tanya."

"It’s Alia."

"Bye, Stella."

She huffs out a breath, walks past me, stumbles, then rights herself and darts out the door.

Saint chuckles. "My effect on the opposite sex is not to be underestimated, huh?"

Wanker.

He prowls to the table, stares at the books. "Movie Trivia Unleashed. Advanced Movie Quizzes. Dialogues from Movies You Always Wanted to Know—"

"Thanks for spelling out the titles." I stalk over, gather up the books.

"You feeling okay, Sin?"

"Eh?" I shuffle my weight from foot to foot.

"Something you want to tell me?"

"About what?"

He stares at the pile of books in front of me.

That?"It’s a new hobby."

He tracks me as I stride to my desk.

"You don’t do hobbies, Sin."

"Things… have changed." I pick up a book, relax into my swivel chair.

"You don’t say?"

I plant my feet on the table, begin to read the book. I glance past the cover to the corner, where Max normally keeps me company. He’d refused to leave the house, had spent the night moping outside the bedroom door.

Yeah, I’d locked him out last night. Apparently, I couldn’t share my bride with my own mutt. Fuck! When I’d opened the bedroom door this morning he’d shot inside, then curled up on the floor by her side.

I’d left both woman and dog sleeping peacefully.

"What are you doing?" Saint’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

"You’re still here?" I mutter.

He ambles over as if he owns the office—which he doesn’t—okay, maybe 1/7th of it, but this is my domain, and I am getting a little tired of one or the other of the Seven constantly dropping in. It’s almost as if they are checking in on me… More likely, their investment is what keeps them returning. I smirk.

He reaches for the book I'm holding and I hold it out of his reach. "What the—?" I glower.

"You’re losing it, old chap." He rubs his chin.

"Piss off." I jerk my chin at the door.