Page 43 of Scandal
“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Merc answers with a casual shrug. “I don’t really make it my business to stalk celebrities online. Especially royalty.”
Everyone turns to stare at Isobel as she turns a bright shade of red. “I don’t stalk her online,” she sputters. “Everyone knows she wore that dress to the?—”
Her mother gives a gentle pat to the top of her hand, and her words come to a screeching halt.
There’s a moment when everyone seems to realize they’re staring at the poor girl and tries to look away. I glance across the table to see that my mother’s attention is instead laser-focused on Mercury.
But, for once, it’s not malice or annoyance in her expression.
It’s curiosity.
“Mercury,” she finally says, leaning forward to take a sip of her wine. “Tell us about yourself. I want to know everything about the girl who’s stolen my son’s heart.”
Well, that’s…new.
“Asher.”
Warm hands glide across my torso, and I groan. I reach out, needing them closer.
Needinghercloser.
“Oomph!”
My eyes snap open, and I find myself face-to-face with a surprised-looking Mercury hovering above me in the dark.
“Why are you lying on top of me?” I ask, unable to hide the grin tugging at my lips.
“You pulled me on top of you!” She flails, pushing off me as I laugh. “Your phone is ringing, and I was trying to wake you up!”
“And so you thought jumping on top of me would work?”
We’ve been sharing this bed semi-successfully for days. Every night, we fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed, and every morning, I wake up with a raging hard-on and a woman clinging to me like a barnacle who swears she has no idea how she got there.
The only reason I can call it semi-successful is that we can still laugh about it, and I’ve told her I’m a big fan of morning showers. I’m not actually, but it gives me the excuse to go…take care of things.
I should probably feel guilty about that part, but a man needs his sanity.
“Ugh!” She lets out a frustrated growl and hands me my now silent phone. “I was trying to reach for your phone on the nightstand. You’re the one who decided to get handsy.”
I shrug. “Can’t help it. Usually, when a beautiful woman wakes me in the middle of the night, it’s for one reason.”
“The security code so she can leave?”
I laugh. “No.”
She taps a finger to her lips. “Your bodyguard’s phone number?”
“You’re funny.”
“I know.” She beams, now sitting up with her legs crossed. She’s wearing plaid shorts and that old Creeds hoodie once again. Nothing fancy or remotely sexy, but she’s just as beautiful like this—makeup-free and a little sleepy as she was last night. “Are you going to call him back?”
“Who?” And then I check my missed calls. “Fuck.”
“He called twice before I woke up. Must be pretty important.”
I sit up and scrub a hand down my face, trying to mentally prepare for this. “Yeah,” I reply. “I’m sure he thinks it is.”
“Do you want me to go…” Then she looks around the tiny cottage, trying to figure out how she’s going to finish that sentence.
