Mr Billionaire's Borrowed Wife
No, you don’t.
Throw his iPad out the window.
No. Don’t.
But, because my brain loves self-sabotage, I opened my mouth.
“Do you really…” I swallowed, “...not remember anything from five years ago?”
Nicholas still didn’t look at me. But his fingers stopped moving. “Fragments,” he said eventually, voice low and deep like it came from somewhere beneath his ribs. “A face. A voice. Sometimes… a green-eyed woman.”
I froze. My eyes widened.