Page 66 of The Price of Scandal

I arched an eyebrow in jest. “How very nouveau.”

“He’s a chef, not a gigolo. Which, by the way, is what Luna thought you were. Cristoff is a crabby, loud, terrifying chef who makes divine creations and throws violent temper tantrums.”

“He sounds delightful.”

She dug into her chicken. “Mmm.” She rolled her eyes back in her head. “Delicious.”

I rounded the bed and slid onto the mattress on the opposite side.

“What are you doing?” she asked with her mouth full.

Fluffing the pillows behind my head—why did women insist on having a phalanx of pillows on their beds—I reached for the second dish of chicken.

“I’m babysitting you.”

“I’m fed. I’m in bed. Your job is done,” she said.

I gave her a long, steely look. “Clearly, it’s not. I’m staying right here and making sure you get at least nine hours of sleep and a hearty breakfast. You running yourself into the ground is not part of my plan.”

“You can’t be serious,” Emily said, neatly scooping up a bite of rice.

“Deadly, darling.”

“Fine. But we’re not having sex,” she insisted.

“Right now, I’m more inclined to strangle you than have sex with you.” I found the remote on the side table and turned the TV on. “Now, let’s see what the lovely Emily Stanton watches when she’s in bed.”

I scrolled through her recently watched shows and grinned.

“I refuse to be embarrassed by my viewing habits,” she sniffed as I clicked on a tiny home builder reality show.

“You can’t expect me to not comment on the irony,” I said dryly. “I had to drop breadcrumbs just to find my way from your kitchen to your bedroom.”

“Shut up, Price.”

“It’s nice to see it’s not all documentaries and biopics,” I mused.

“You make me sound so boring,” she complained.

But there was nothing boring about the woman in bed next to me.

“Well,thisis cozy. And confusing.”

Cameron Whitbury, aerospace billionaire and next-door neighbor, poked her head in the open bedroom doors.

“Cam!” Emily said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw Captain Chivalry here half dragging you into the house. You looked sick or something. Are you feeling okay?”

“She is not,” I said at the same time Emily said, “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Emily decided to run herself into the ground on no food for who knows how long,” I informed her.

“I can report that she also hasn’t been sleeping. Her home office lights aren’t going out until three the past several nights,” Cam said.

“Here’s an idea, how about you all butt your pretty little noses out of my life?” Emily grumbled.