Page 185 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

"Do you find me saying or doing anything to that effect?"

Saint raises his eyes skyward, "Thank fuck for that."

His phone pings, and he pulls it out of his pocket, glances at the screen. "The fuck?"

Sin's shoulders bunch. "What is it?"

"Probably a crank message, except..."

"Except?"

"He or she knows their poetry."

Sin stiffens. He walks forward, his arm around my shoulders. I lengthen my steps, to keep pace with him. We halt by his desk, and he pulls me against his chest. "Let me see that."

"Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Sinclair, probably an irate woman I fucked."

"Read it out." Sin's voice is hard.

Saint's shoulders stiffen, then he glances at the screen.

"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars.

Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."

"Byron." Sinclair and Saint say in the same instant.

Speaking of." Sinclair stiffens. He lets go of me long enough to grab his phone from the wastepaper basket. He straightens, pulls me back into the 'V' between his legs, then checks his phone.

He stiffens.

"What?"

He shows me his phone.

"The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two

Of an enormous city did survive,

And they were enemies..."

I read out.

"The fuck?" Sin growls from somewhere above me.

Saint's shoulders bunch, "Byron again."

There's a buzzing sound from my bag.

"Sin." I nudge him, "I need to get my phone."

"Fine." He lets go of me so I can grab my bag and pull it toward me.

He pulls me close, keeps an arm around my waist as I fish out my phone.

There's a missed call from Karma and a voicemail. I listen to it, then frown.