“So,” Heather said, sipping her champagne after Christmas dinner, “how was your day?”
I drew my finger across the rim of my glass and bit back a grin. “Good.”
She arched her brow. “Just good? Steven didn’t ask you anything?”
“No …” I glanced over at her. “What would he ask me?”
Heather stiffened and grabbed my hand, leading me all the way across the room and toward the leather couch near the floor-to-ceiling windows. We had just finished dinner with Michelle and her submissive as well as Hector, and I was feeling tired already.
She glanced over her shoulder at the brothers. “Hector said maybe Steven would …”
After sitting next to her, I furrowed my brow. “Would what?”
“Give you a contract.”
“A contract for what?” I asked.
She gently scratched her forehead with her manicured nails.
