Two Truths and a Marriage Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement1

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Just a few more spreadsheets. A couple more supply orders.

Then I can sleep.

At least Catness is glad to see me, shuffling over and twining around my ankles with the same happy welcome mewl he always belts out.

I swoop him up and kiss his grey, stripey head.

“Silly boy, you’re slacking,” I say fondly as he purrs and blinks at me with those big eyes. “How’s that hole in the wall?”

Noticeably bigger.

Plus, there’s a second hole just a foot away on the other side of the wall.

Awesome. The mice keep coming and Catness takes too many long naps to keep up real guard duty.

As if I don’t have enough to deal with today.

Sighing, I microwave a can of chili and plod into the bedroom. I’m not usually a pajamas gal—I prefer sweatshirts and no pants—but today, I stuff myself into the fluffiest pajama bottoms I can find.

Bra off. Fully liberated.

Microwave dinging.

Now, for that boring admin work.

Thursday isn’t usually a wine day, either, but for this one I’ll make an exception. I crack open a bottle as I put the TV on in the background.

It’s weird, you’d think I’d prize peace and quiet after being surrounded by loud customers and whirring mixers and rowdy teenagers all day, but I hate silence.

The disconnection.

The distant sound of a city getting on with its business while I’m stuck here alone, still working.

God, it’s tragic.

I take another long sip of wine, like that’ll help, and open my laptop. The shiny new computer still makes me smile, my pride and joy, second only to the furry beast who insists on nudging up under my other arm.

“Okay, okay. Just let me eat.”

I’m three bites into the least spicy Midwestern chili ever packaged when the intercom buzzer on the wall goes off.

I freeze, spoon halfway to my mouth, and listen again.

Sometimes, it’s just a rando buzzing the wrong apartment. Usually, it’s the wrong door. I don’t have visitors.

But the buzzer goes off again, and this time there’s a voice with it.

“Miss Winkley? Are you in?”

Dexter Rory.

Holy shit.

I shove the laptop aside and look around.

I never should’ve let him know my building.

The whole apartment’s a disaster with clothes strewn everywhere and dirty dishes soaking in the sink and cat hair plastering everything.

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap—

“Junie?” he calls again through the speaker. “I know you’re pissed at me. Hell, I’d be pissed, too, but I need to talk to you. There’s been a development.”

Oh my God.

If the moon were falling into the Earth, somehow, I think he’d announce it in the dullest, most nonthreatening way possible.

I bolt up as Catness scatters, stabbing at the intercom button.

“Come on up,” I say, trying to sound cool. “The elevator’s acting up today, so you’ll have to take the stairs.”

“Got it.”

The stairs and long, cramped hallways in this old building take me about four minutes to navigate from bottom to top. Maybe longer if I’m walking slowly like today.

But Dexter’s devilishly fit, which means it’ll probably take him half the time.

Not nearly long enough to do anything about the bombed-out mess I live in.

Still, I flit around the apartment like a panicked hummingbird, scooping up my dirty clothes and chucking them in the bedroom.

Bathroom’s a mess as well, with hair still stuck to the shower walls from this morning, but that can’t be helped. Hopefully he won’t need it.

I’m on my way into the bedroom with the last of my clothes and a blanket I think Catness graced with a hairball this morning when he knocks on the door.

Of course, his knock is deafening.

I finger comb my hair into place without bothering to check the bathroom mirror. I probably should have changed, too, but it’s too late for that now.

I just have to hope he doesn’t mind me looking as frazzled as I feel.

“Hi,” I say, opening the door.

There he is, magnificent and bulging at the seams in a suit that’s ever-so-slightly crumpled, looking even more intense than usual.

Guess I’m not the only one who’s had one hell of a day.

“Sorry for interrupting.” His gaze travels down my pajamas and he winces. “I know I shouldn’t barge in with no warning. If I had a choice, I would’ve—”

I reach for his sleeve, pulling him inside.

God.

This whole thing would be so much easier if I could hate him like I did on day one. But he’s made that pretty much impossible, cutting me open with those big blue eyes swirling with regret.

“Come in and tell me what’s up.” I let him step inside fully, trying to imagine what a stranger sees when they first walk into this place.

First, there are the plants.

Potted plants everywhere. Nana sends them over regularly because she’s got a green thumb big enough for a dozen people.

Flowers, little vines, even a Venus flytrap on the windowsill. All nice, nontoxic things that don’t need a ton of light or much care.


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