There’s a statement missing here.

I turn it over and read the back, and then I read the front.

It’s a credit card statement from six, nearly seven years ago. I slip into the seat and roll my fingers on the desk as I think. What would she want his credit card number for?

What does she want?

I text Sebastian.

Cancel your credit card ending in 507. Helena has the number.

A reply instantly comes back.

Already done X

Good.

I narrow my eyes as contempt fills my every cell. If you want to hurt him bitch, you’ll have to get through me.

It’s just gone 7:00 p.m. when the garage door goes up.

I called Seb earlier. I wanted to cook dinner for the two of us. Takeaway choked out chicken didn’t sound appealing. I have a baked dinner in the oven, and I’ve had a productive day. I vacuumed the house, did some washing, took a nap, and I made a little surprise for Sebastian, which could go either way, but it had to be done. I guess I’ll soon find out by his reaction. I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark.

I know I have, but I needed to do this for me.

I stir the gravy and take the large baking dish out of the oven. The heavenly aroma of roast meat and vegetables fills the house. I’m wearing my new favorite outfit: Sebastian’s dressing gown. My blonde hair is in a messy bun, and I have no fucks to give about my appearance. This man makes me feel comfortable in my own skin. He likes me best like this.

I like me best like this.

He appears and leans against the doorframe, watching me. His big brown eyes find mine across the room, and he gives me the best come fuck me look I’ve ever seen. Wearing a navy suit and a crisp white shirt, he is the epitome of dreamy. My heart skips a beat.

“Hi,” he purrs.

“Hello, Mr. Garcia.” I smirk.

He pushes off the wall, and in one swift movement, he has me in his arms.

He gently pats my blue eye socket. “Does it still hurt?”

“No. It’s getting better.”

“How was my girl’s day?” He kisses me with suction and dominance.

Just delicious.

“Better now.”

He unfastens the tie of my dressing gown to reveal my naked body. His eyes drop to my toes, and he licks his lips.

“Mine, too.”

He stands back and cups my breast, his thumb dusting back and forth over my erect nipple. His hands slide down around to my behind, and he kisses me as he pulls my body against his hard cock.

Oh, this man.

“Dinner.” I smile against his lips.

“Is right here.” His lips drop to my neck, and his teeth graze my skin. Goosebumps scatter up my spine.

I tip my head back to allow him greater access. No matter how hard I try, I can’t resist him. “Seb.” I smile goofily up at the ceiling. “I’ve made you dinner. In fact, I’ve made you a lot of things today.”

He pulls back to look at me. “Such as?”

“A surprise. Now sit down while I serve.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes and takes a seat at the bench. I pour us both a glass of wine and pass his to him. He takes a sip, his eyes lingering on my face.

“What?” I smirk.

“I like coming home to this.”

“To what?”

“You, half naked in my kitchen.”

I giggle and point to him with the tongs in my hand. “That’s because you’re a sex maniac.”

He taps his lap. “Come.”

I go to him and put my arms around his neck. He slides his hands in under my robe and holds me tightly. We stay here for a while, and it’s nice. There’s a closeness between us, and it’s not hurried or passionate. It’s comfortable.

Homely.

Something I’ve been searching for, for a very long time.

“What’s this surprise you made me?” he asks.

Oh crap.

“Umm… well…” I really don’t know how this is going to go down. Knowing Sebastian, it could very well be the drop of an atomic bomb. “I was thinking about everything today, and how…”

He listens.

“I know that it’s not… I mean, I don’t want you to ever go through that again.” I stumble over my words trying to make this come out in the right context.

“April,” he says in his deep, commanding voice.

“I made you something. Of course, you will need to get Bart or someone you trust to check it.” I babble on.

Nerves dance in my stomach.

“April…” He warns impatiently.

I push off his lap. “I’ll just go get it.” I walk up the hall and into his office to retrieve the ten-page document in his printer. I walk back out and hand it over.

He frowns as he looks down at it in his hands.

“It’s a prenup agreement,” I announce.

His eyes rise to mine, and he raises a pissed off eyebrow.

Oh crap, he thinks it's about me. “I mean, it’s not for me or anything. It’s for you to have for the future. Like, if you ever meet the right person. I don’t want you to get ripped off ever again, Seb.”

Unimpressed, he throws it onto the table and stands. He goes to the cupboard, takes out a glass and fills it with scotch. He takes a sip as his angry eyes hold mine.

“Are you angry?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m fucking angry.” He growls. “If you want to leave, just do it.” He drains his glass.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.

“I cannot believe you would have the fucking audacity to draft a pre-marital agreement for my future wife to sign,” he says.

“Sebastian…”

“Don’t.” He fills his glass again.

“This is for your own protection. I won’t let another woman rip you off.”

“I don’t want another fucking woman!” he yells.

Oh crap, he thinks I’m leaving.

“Then, I’ll sign it,” I stammer. I grab the pen from the shopping list on the fridge. “Here, I’ll sign it right now.”

Fuck, this is going bad.

Real bad.

I flick through the pages to the back and quickly sign my name on the dotted line. I’m half expecting him to throw me out onto the street. “There, see?” I smile. “It’s done.”