Chapter Eighty-Three

~Nikki~

I gasp.

What the hell?

I glare at Jameson.

He stares back. Quite nonchalantly. And yet… pointedly.

I shove my chair back as my brain practically explodes.

“I’m sorry—what the fuck did you just say?”

He shrugs and lets out a breath. “I mean, you took a solid stance, Nikki. Presented an intelligent and reasonable argument for us to be together. One I really have difficulty refuting.”

“Difficulty refuting?!” I’m in an absolute uproar.

Because this conversation is pure bonkers.

I sink into my beautifully upholstered chair and sip my latte. Try to breathe.

Jameson shoots me a contrite look and says, “Try the cornetto. It’s like a croissant.”

He pushes a small, silver-domed plate toward me. “Promise you’ll like it.”

I need the distraction from the crazy situation we’ve found ourselves in and I yank off the dome—only to stare at something that is decidedly not a cornetto.

Rather…

It’s a small box with Cartier stamped on it.

My eyes bulge.

Jameson chuckles. “Don’t act so surprised.”