–Laura–
I still don't know why my sister suddenly told me to fly to the States—Las Vegas, of all places—but hey, I'm not complaining. I'm sure we're going there to have fun… probably. Still, it made me curious. She gave strict instructions to have her men keep an eye on me. I mean, I almost got killed—twice… maybe three times? Who's counting?
"How about this one?" Damien held up a scandalously sexy negligee, grinning like a teenage boy.
I gave him an exaggerated eye roll. "Seriously? Babe, you're not helping. I need my autumn boots."
He rummaged through my shoe rack in my showroom. "Why do you have so many high heels? Not a single pair of flats? All of these are high-heeled autumn boots. You're pregnant, love."
I scoffed. "Babe, I can still walk in heels. I have core strength and balance like a flamingo. Just bring them over."
"Sure," he said, clearly not convinced.
