He smiles coldly. “I’d offer to share details to prove it. But frankly, after that pissy little outburst, I’m not comfortable doing so. Not when you’re this close to high proof alcohol and open flames.”
A small grin tugs at my scowl before I can stop it.
It may or may not have at least something to do with the fact that his hands are still gripping my thighs right above my knees.
“I wasn’t pissy,” I grumble. “And if you think that was an outburst, boy oh boy, do I have some bad news for you, husband.”
His eyes narrow.
“Although,” I add, clearing my throat, “it does raise an interesting question.”
“I already don't like where this is going.”
I ignore him. “How exactly is this supposed to work?”
His heavy brow furrows. “How is what supposed to work?”
“This.” I gesture between us. “Fake marriage. Hostile corporate merger. Whatever we’re calling it.”
Damiano eyes me curiously.
“We’re both human,” I continue. “And presumably neither of us signed up for a lifetime of celibacy to go with this farce.”
His teeth grind slightly.
“No,” he growls.
I shrug. “So…? C'mon, you’re the one who gets so wet for rules. What are they?”
His eyes flicker.
“I… don’t know.”
“Super helpful. Thank you.”
His eyes narrow. “I mean, we haven’t discussed it yet…”
A shiver ripples up my spine as his hands tighten on my legs.
“But yes,” he says after a beat. “Obviously we both still have needs.”
My stomach twists.
“Obviously.”
Immediately the image slips into my head of Vivienne leaning across the bar toward him. Damiano’s hands on her thigh. His mouth on hers…
Nope.
I smile sweetly.
“Well, thank goodness Vivienne is clearly ready, willing and able to service yours. Maybe slightly less available after today’s unfortunate brush with fire,” I snicker. “But I’m sure you can still sweet-talk her out of her panties—”
“I already told you,” he growls. “Vivienne is a potential business lead. That's it.”
“Well,” I snap loudly. “If not her, the next blonde bimbo Barbie on your list—”
“The fuck is your problem?”