9
Armand
“You’re f*****g her, aren’t you?” Gina asks bluntly as soon as the door to her office is closed. “Your mother knows.”
I sigh as I slip into the chair across the desk from her. “Well, good morning to you too.”
“I’m quite serious, Armand. There’s trouble brewing, and we need you focused.” She has her glasses off and is massaging the bridge of her nose. Bad sign—it’s her habitual gesture when dealing with idiots.
“Are you suggesting that I can’t focus if I’m getting laid regularly?” I try to sound amused, but in reality I’m annoyed as hell. My mother is a nosy hen about certain things, and it’s always been awkward that my romantic life is somehow one of them.
It just rubs salt in the wound that Gina’s on her side.
Gina rolls her eyes. “Armand. I’m not saying any such thing. I’
