Peel These Shrimp Or Get Out Chapter 2

"Did you not eat enough at dinner?" Camilla asked, bewildered. "Why buy so much? You can’t possibly eat all this."

She reached for the bell to summon Arthur.

"Stop," I said softly. "I want you to peel them. With your own hands."

Camilla paused. A flicker of annoyance crossed her perfect features. "Declan, you know I have germaphobia."

"Do you?" I leaned back, loosening my tie. "Because tonight, I watched you peel shrimp for your little assistant with remarkable dexterity."

She froze, then let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, is that what this is? You’re jealous?"

She sat beside me, draping an arm over my shoulders, the scent of her expensive body wash filling the space between us. "I rarely see you possessive. I thought the great Declan Montgomery was always unflappable."

She kissed my forehead, patronizing and sweet. "He’s just an intern, Declan. He’s fresh out of college, knows nothing about the world. He speaks without thinking. I just saw a kid struggling and helped him out. If it bothers you, I promise I won't do it again."

I looked at her face. We had been married three years. She was thirty now, and time hadn't touched her; it had only refined her, like polishing a diamond.

I reached up and touched her cheek. "Camilla, do you know why I chose you out of every eligible heiress in New York?"

She tilted her head.

"Because you were clean," I said.

"Your parents told me you hated physical contact with strangers. That you were obsessive about your boundaries."

"It was perfect. Because I’m the same way."

I held her gaze until her smile faltered. "Our marriage is a binding contract between the Montgomery and Bishop empires. We have a good partnership. But I expect this marriage to remain sterile. Efficient. Clean. Whether it’s you and me, or our companies, I need things to run without contamination. Don't disappoint me."

I stood up, bent down, and kissed her lips. "Peel the shrimp. Consider it penance for letting another man breach your perimeter. Be a good girl."

I went to bed early. I don't know when she came to sleep.

The next morning, the dining table was covered in bowls of perfectly peeled shrimp meat. Camilla was gone—an emergency board meeting, Arthur said.

Arthur stood silently by the table.

"You have a big family, Arthur?" I asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Take these home. My wife peeled them by hand. They should be very clean. Don't let them go to waste."

Life returned to normal. The incident felt like a blip, a dash of vinegar in an otherwise bland dish.

If anything, she was more attentive.

I didn't have the time to track who she interacted with. I was running the Montgomery Group; I had acquisitions to finalize.

A month later, she came to pick me up for a family dinner at the Bishop estate. As the car pulled up and the window rolled down, I didn't see an empty seat.

I saw Rory’s smiling face in the passenger seat.

I frowned.