If Elysia was in a good mood, Tarquin was right there with her—his happiness was basically tied to hers.
He looked totally smitten, his voice dripping with affection.
“No need, babe. Just be good and wait for me at home. I’ve got a reward for you when I get back.”
Elysia hesitated, remembering the cheeky whisper he’d breathed in her ear before leaving. Her cheeks flushed pink.
“...I’m hanging up now.”
Before Tarquin could answer, she ended the call.
Tarquin just sat there, grinning at his phone like an idiot.
Lowell, watching him through the rearview mirror, couldn’t help himself and piped up,
“Tarquin, you’ve changed, man! You used to be the big bad wolf—now you’re, what, a foxy little heartthrob?”
Tarquin shot him a cold glare from under his lashes.
The chill in the air made Lowell realize he might’ve stepped over the line. Calling the big boss a foxy playboy? Not the smartest move. If they weren’t old friends, he’d probably be toast by now.
Lowell’s heart skipped a beat, scrambling for a way to save himself. But then Tarquin, cool as ever, replied,
“Hey, if I can win over my wife, that’s a skill.”
Lowell stared, stunned. Was Tarquin actually admitting to being a heartthrob? And proud of it, too?
He could only awkwardly agree,
“...Right, right. Whatever you say.”
You’re the boss, after all. Who’s going to argue?
—
Back at Number One Mansion, Elysia hung up, cheeks flushed, and headed to the bathroom to wash up.
A “reward” from Tarquin meant only one thing—he wanted her. Didn’t matter how many times it happened; she still got nervous and shy about it.
She took a long, steamy shower, slapped on a face mask, and finally felt the butterflies in her stomach settle down.
After blow-drying her hair, she crawled under the covers, waiting for Tarquin to come home.
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