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Erik was a client, and this was exactly the kind of thing she could be fired for.
Walking out of the bedroom, she opened the windows in the lounge and then went into the kitchen. A
quick inspection of the cupboards revealed that there wasn't much in them that could be classified as
food. She sighed to herself. It wasn't as though she'd been expecting her dream guy turned real guy to
spend the night. When she'd agreed to go out with him, she'd gone straight home to get ready, skipping
the grocery shopping that she should have been doing.
She grabbed the bag of bread off the side and opened it, frowning as she took out a slice and inspected
it for mould. The last thing she wanted to do was give Erik mouldy toast. That definitely would not be the
way to his heart. She hummed quietly to herself as she put some slices of bread into the toaster and tried
not to listen in on Erik's conversation with his brother. She could hear him quite clearly. It wasn't as
though he was keeping his voice down.
She'd witnessed first hand the animosity between them and now that there was more evidence, she
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couldn't deny it. The meeting, last night at the club, and the way Erik was speaking on the phone, they all
made her see that the two of them hated each other. It raised one question in her mind again.
Why were they entering into this contract with each other if they couldn't stand each other?
She remembered the paragraph and the fact that she'd not mentioned it once last night.
The toast popped and she put it on a plate before refilling the toaster. She stared at it, thinking about
everything that had happened over the past few days and what the contract said. She just couldn't
understand why Erik wanted to sign it. There didn't seem to be anything at all beneficial to him in it, and
that clause about blood gave her the willies. What kind of contract mentioned blood?
"Sorry about that, a strong male voice spoke close to her ear and an equally as strong pair of hands
caught hold of her waist and turned her around. He lifted her effortlessly onto the work surface and sat
her down, nestling himself in between her knees. He smiled. Now where were we?"
She closed her eyes as he kissed her, his hands locked tightly against her back and his body pressing
into hers.
She didn't know where she was. One minute she was thinking about that contract, the next it was
nothing but a distant and very hazy memory, one that didn't bother her at all.
When he kissed her, nothing seemed to matter except the way it felt to have him hold her, and the touch
of his lips against hers.
He pulled back, still smiling as he looked into her eyes. She looked deep into them, finding no trace of
the anger she'd seen moments ago when he'd answered the phone. She wanted to mention it to see if the
darkness that had been in his eyes would come back, but after the way he'd reacted to her mentioning his
brother last night, she knew it wasn't wise.
The toaster popped again and he looked at it, and then at her.
"I was making breakfast, she said and leaned over to take the two slices of toast out of the machine.
She placed them on the plate with the others. Only I don't seem to have anything edible in the flat."
She gave him an apologetic look. His expression was blank for a few seconds and then he smiled,
stepping away from her and looking through the cupboards. She noticed that he was dressed and a part
of her wondered if he was planning on leaving soon. She hoped he wasn't. It was still early and there was
the whole of what could be a nice lazy Sunday in front of them.
"Anything to put on the toast? he said, pushing jars and bottles aside.
She watched him for a moment, desperately trying not to think about how domestic this all was, and then
shuffled closer. She looked over her shoulder at the cupboard and reached in. Rifling around, she placed
everything that wasn't out of date on the work surface.
"Peanut butter, marmite or honey, she announced with a triumphant smile and made a mental note to go
through her cupboards and throw away all the old stuff.
He pulled a face, somewhere in between thoughtful and repulsed. She silently prayed it wasn't disgust.
So her choice of food wasn't quite the same as what he probably ate on a daily basis. Her wages didn't
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extended to posh champagne.
"I'm going to have to go with this, he said, picking up the peanut butter. He smiled and relief swept
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