Indisputably Yours

44.

Monday came by fast, faster than I would've loved for it to, and of all the days to sleep in, it had to be today—my first day at work.

I was flying around the room in a frenzy, trying to pull myself together and make myself somewhat presentable but it felt like the universe was conspiring against me. Clothes were strewn across the floor, dresser drawers were left gaping, my pants were putting up a ridiculous fight, refusing to slide over my hips, and the sun? It peeked through the blinds, casting a golden reminder that I should've been out the door ten minutes ago.

"Ugh!" I groaned in frustration, yanking my pants with all the grace of a wild animal.

"You need to calm down, princess," Tristan drawled lazily from his position on the edge of the bed.

"Calm down?" I practically screeched, hopping on one leg as I wrestled with my stubborn pants. "I can't calm down! I'm late! My hair looks like I've been dragged through a hedge! My outfit? Non-existent since I can't even get my ass to fit into these stupid pants! And, oh God, I can't even remember if I brushed my teeth!"

His shoulders shook as he tried—and failed—to hold back his laughter.

"This isn't funny!" I barked, grabbing my bra off the dresser and chucking it at his stupid, gorgeous face. "It's your fault I'm running late! You kept me up all night!"

He caught the bra effortlessly, his insufferable grin widening. "Kept you up? I seem to recall you doing most of the work, sweetheart."

I glowered at him, cheeks burning from a mix of frustration and... well, damn it, he wasn't entirely wrong. I was the one who'd been insatiable last night, thanks to these raging pregnancy hormones that had turned me into a sex-crazed lunatic. One look at him—shirtless, with that perfect body and smug grin—and I was a goner. Even now, just looking at him sitting there, completely unbothered, naked, and unapologetically sexy was making me hot all over again.

I huffed and turned away quickly, focusing on getting dressed before I did something stupid, like crawl back into bed with him.

I slipped on my Bavarian cream satin blouse. The fabric felt luxurious against my skin, a small comfort as my nerves bubbled beneath the surface. I'd chosen a simple yet elegant outfit for my first day—something understated, but with a touch of sophistication. After buttoning up the blouse and tucking it neatly into my high-waisted olive green pleated pants, I veered back around. "Do I look okay?" I asked, desperate for some validation that I didn't look like a total disaster.

Tristan tilted his head and stared for what felt like a long, torturous moment. His eyes dragged over every inch of me, and for a split second, I felt self-conscious. "Well?" I pressed, feeling my nerves rise. "Say something."

His eyes finally met mine and his lips curved into a familiar, infuriatingly smug grin. "Honestly?" he teased, leaning back lazily, "I prefer you naked."

I shot him a glare, half tempted to hurl my hairbrush at him. "Really? That's your feedback?"

He shrugged, utterly unfazed. "You asked."

I shook my head. "You're impossible."

His eyes twinkled with that annoying confidence that I both loved and hated. "Admit it, you love me this way."

"Don't flatter yourself." I bit, turning sharply to the mirror. Now, if I could just get this hair under control... I grabbed my brush and started to comb through, attempting to pull it into some kind of order.

Two minutes in, I realized it was a losing battle and tried for a ponytail, but the band kept slipping through my fingers like it was mocking me. Every time I thought I had it, it would slip again, making my frustration spike. "Dammit!" I cursed under my breath, glaring at the reflection of my hair. "Why won't you just work!"