Page 52 of The Christmas Trap

Sure, enough her forehead creases. Then she smooths out the expression on her face. "Who else?"

I tighten my hold on my wineglass. The thought of her being with any man other than me…twists my guts and turns my blood to lava. I draw in a few breaths until I find my composure.

"What about your parents?" I manage to ask.

"They’re in California."

“And do you have any other family? Any siblings?”

She gives me a funny look. “You’re awfully chatty.”

"You know a lot about me. You’ve met my grandfather, and I’m sure you’ve heard about my brothers who work here.” I shrug lightly. “I want to know a little more about you.”

She purses her lips. “Didn’t you have me investigated? I’m sure whatever you want to know is in there.”

I pause. “I read the file, yes. But that’s paper. I’d rather hear it from you.”

The truth is, I want to understand her—what drives her, whatshe hides behind that calm exterior. I want the version of her no report can capture.

She frowns, guarded.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” I add. “It’ll help us work together better.”

She toys with the food on her plate. Then seems to come to a decision. “I have a younger sister.” She looks up at me. “She got a scholarship to study at the Royal Drawing School.”

“That’s impressive.”

She smiles. “Rayaisvery smart and talented.”

“She takes after her sister then.”

She narrows her gaze. “Are you blowing smoke up my arse, Mr. Davenport?”

I chuckle. I’m delighted that she’s mirroring the same words I once used with her. “Touché.” I raise my wineglass.

She clinks her glass with mine.

“You’re going to need time off after the wedding, aren’t you?”Can’t leave it alone, can you?It's something that, clearly, isn’t a favorite topic of hers. But I really want to understand how this smart, beautiful, gorgeous woman got involved with a knobhead like her fiancé.

“Time off?” She blinks.

“You’re going on a honeymoon, aren’t you?”

Saying it aloud turns my stomach to stone and my muscles to granite. The thought of her on holiday with another man, makes me want to throw something at the wall.

“Uh, hmm, not really.” She stares into her wineglass.

“You’re not going on a honeymoon?”

“This role is new to me; I didn’t think it was prudent to take time off.”

She lowers her chin.

“Also, Keith and I decided that it would be best to use the money we’d have spent on the trip toward a down payment for our mortgage.”

Her words say one thing. But the hurt in her eyes says otherwise.

Keith, huh? What a fucking loser of a name. And I can’t believehe wouldn’t take her on a honeymoon. Why the hell is she marrying this man?