I ask him that.
“No,” William says, his eyes intense on mine. “None.”
I feel my brow crease. It was so ironic that the man who developed a social networking empire, one based heavily on people wanting to share details and pictures, had none in his home. If that isn’t the height of irony, I don’t know what is.
“Let’s go back for a moment,” William suddenly says, changing the subject. “You have to see the master bathroom. If I do say so myself, it is brilliant.”
We go back through his room and to the master bathroom. And as soon as I enter, I gasp out loud. The bathroom is magnificent. There are dual-head steam showers, raised sink basins, and the crowning jewel of it all—a raised bathtub that overlooks Lake Michigan.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “This . . . this . . . holy shit!” I finally spit out.
William laughs. “I take this receives your approval, Mary-Kate.”
I am about to answer when my phone rings. I glance down and then look up at William. “It’s Arabella.”
William’s brow instantly creases. “What? Why is she calling you on a Saturday?”
I shrug and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Nice of you to answer, MK,” Arabella snaps at me in a clipped tone. “Do you happen to have any idea where Mr. Cumberland is? There is an urgent matter that needs his attention and I am unable to reach him by mobile.”
I glance at William for a moment, and his brow is still furrowed.
“I am sure I can locate him if absolutely needed,” I say.
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, really? Like, do you have ESP and you can just figure out where he is? First of all, you should know his schedule at all times. If you do not know, you do not know. Don’t be a twit about it. Just say you do not know where he is.”
Okay, now I’m pissed.
“Arabella, there is no need to call me a twit!” I snap back at her.
William’s eyes instantly flash. He grabs the phone from my hand and puts it to his ear, and I can hear Arabella yelling at who she thinks is me on the other end of the line.
Oh my God. I want to laugh so hard, I bite my lip.
But then I notice William’s blue eyes are flickering with anger.
Big-time anger.
“Ms. Dalton,” he says in a cold, controlled voice, “you shall never speak to Ms. Grant that way again. Ever. Or I will sack you, do you understand?”
Wow! He is livid . And if I were Arabella, I’d be shaking in fear.
And a tingle of excitement whips down my spine as I realize that William is furious on my behalf.
“Now what is so urgent that you need to disrupt my Saturday afternoon?” William snaps. “Yes . . . no . . . fine . . . Tell him to call me Monday . . . All right. And just to be clear, you shall treat Ms. Grant with the utmost respect. Your job depends on it.”
Then William disconnects the call and hands me back my phone. “Does she always talk to you like that, Mary-Kate?”
“William, I can handle her.”
“So that’s a ‘yes’. That pisses me off.”
“No need for it to,” I say calmly, not wanting him to be irritated for the rest of the afternoon. “Now, are we going to go shopping? Because that is the only sport I really enjoy.”
I see the anger evaporate from William’s beautiful eyes. He rakes his hand through his hair, making a mess of the unruly waves, and my breath catches in my throat. God, his hair is just stunning. I wonder what it feels like . . .
Shit! Focus! Do not be distracted by the hair. Do not.
“So,” I say, redirecting my thought to the task at hand, “are we ready to ‘Keep Calm and Carry On?’”
William throws his head back and the rich sound of his laugh echoes off the tiles, wrapping wonderfully around me.
“Watch it, Peppa.”
Now I laugh, snorts included. But as we bundle up and get ready to leave, I do think I need to watch it. I glance at William’s profile as we step into the elevator and my heart catches. Because I know I could easily go through all the matches in my book for
“No,” William says, his eyes intense on mine. “None.”
I feel my brow crease. It was so ironic that the man who developed a social networking empire, one based heavily on people wanting to share details and pictures, had none in his home. If that isn’t the height of irony, I don’t know what is.
“Let’s go back for a moment,” William suddenly says, changing the subject. “You have to see the master bathroom. If I do say so myself, it is brilliant.”
We go back through his room and to the master bathroom. And as soon as I enter, I gasp out loud. The bathroom is magnificent. There are dual-head steam showers, raised sink basins, and the crowning jewel of it all—a raised bathtub that overlooks Lake Michigan.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “This . . . this . . . holy shit!” I finally spit out.
William laughs. “I take this receives your approval, Mary-Kate.”
I am about to answer when my phone rings. I glance down and then look up at William. “It’s Arabella.”
William’s brow instantly creases. “What? Why is she calling you on a Saturday?”
I shrug and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Nice of you to answer, MK,” Arabella snaps at me in a clipped tone. “Do you happen to have any idea where Mr. Cumberland is? There is an urgent matter that needs his attention and I am unable to reach him by mobile.”
I glance at William for a moment, and his brow is still furrowed.
“I am sure I can locate him if absolutely needed,” I say.
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, really? Like, do you have ESP and you can just figure out where he is? First of all, you should know his schedule at all times. If you do not know, you do not know. Don’t be a twit about it. Just say you do not know where he is.”
Okay, now I’m pissed.
“Arabella, there is no need to call me a twit!” I snap back at her.
William’s eyes instantly flash. He grabs the phone from my hand and puts it to his ear, and I can hear Arabella yelling at who she thinks is me on the other end of the line.
Oh my God. I want to laugh so hard, I bite my lip.
But then I notice William’s blue eyes are flickering with anger.
Big-time anger.
“Ms. Dalton,” he says in a cold, controlled voice, “you shall never speak to Ms. Grant that way again. Ever. Or I will sack you, do you understand?”
Wow! He is livid . And if I were Arabella, I’d be shaking in fear.
And a tingle of excitement whips down my spine as I realize that William is furious on my behalf.
“Now what is so urgent that you need to disrupt my Saturday afternoon?” William snaps. “Yes . . . no . . . fine . . . Tell him to call me Monday . . . All right. And just to be clear, you shall treat Ms. Grant with the utmost respect. Your job depends on it.”
Then William disconnects the call and hands me back my phone. “Does she always talk to you like that, Mary-Kate?”
“William, I can handle her.”
“So that’s a ‘yes’. That pisses me off.”
“No need for it to,” I say calmly, not wanting him to be irritated for the rest of the afternoon. “Now, are we going to go shopping? Because that is the only sport I really enjoy.”
I see the anger evaporate from William’s beautiful eyes. He rakes his hand through his hair, making a mess of the unruly waves, and my breath catches in my throat. God, his hair is just stunning. I wonder what it feels like . . .
Shit! Focus! Do not be distracted by the hair. Do not.
“So,” I say, redirecting my thought to the task at hand, “are we ready to ‘Keep Calm and Carry On?’”
William throws his head back and the rich sound of his laugh echoes off the tiles, wrapping wonderfully around me.
“Watch it, Peppa.”
Now I laugh, snorts included. But as we bundle up and get ready to leave, I do think I need to watch it. I glance at William’s profile as we step into the elevator and my heart catches. Because I know I could easily go through all the matches in my book for
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