Free The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield by Ninya Tippett Page B

off the chair.
    I peeked through the window to look at the porch—something Felicity insisted on in case it was a pap waiting for me outside—and saw the tall, dark outline of Brandon as he tapped his foot impatiently and glanced over at me through the window.
    Reluctantly, I pulled the door open.
    "You'll need to have this door reinforced and secured with additional locks," he said without preliminaries. "I could've just kicked it down."
    "I'm amazed at your restraint," I blurted out at him.
    "It's for your own safety, Charlotte," he reminded me softly.
    "I'm so tired that I can't argue with you right now," I grumbled. "If that's what you came here for, goodnight and goodbye."
    He raised a brow, raking in my appearance with his eyes from head to toe. "This is what I get after making you spend the day with fashion and beauty experts? You look like a ragamuffin."
    I was in my old pajamas, a thin and faded shirt from high school, and my hair was twisted into a knot on top of my head. 
    I glowered at him. "Well, I'm not exactly dressed for company.  If you want to get your money's worth, wait till tomorrow."
    I turned away and moved to close the door on him but his hand shot out and pushed it back, shouldering his way inside my house.
    Grinding my teeth, I waited while he stood by the foyer and looked around, observing everything with a keen eye and an insufferable silence. He was probably going to say that my house looked like a milk carton next. 
    "Looks cozy," he said with a half-smile, turning to me. "We'll hire a housekeeper to look after it while you're living with me."
    I walked back to the dining room and lifted another forkful of fruits into my mouth. "Don't worry about it. I'll come in once a week to clean it."
    He followed me and pulled out a chair for himself.
    Arrogant bastard. Of course, he doesnt wait for an invitation. A chair will materialize out of thin air if Brandon Maxfield wished it.
    "You can't be cleaning houses when we're married—that's just absurd," he said firmly. "Besides, you won't have time. You'll be busy doing all your social duties."
    I rolled my eyes. "Oh, yes. How can I forget about all that mindless and idle elbow-rubbing I have to do with your esteemed society friends?"
    He studied me for a moment before letting out a slow exhale. "I understand it's overwhelming but it's part of the role. I'll do what I can to make it less painful for you but you have to take your duties seriously, Charlotte. I will not stand and let you humiliate me or my family name."
    I sent him a look full of daggers. "You're just pissing me off now. Go away, will you?"
    His lips quirked into a faint smile. "Not until you sign the revised contract. And we have to go over our story so we don't mess it up with Dad tomorrow."
    I opened the thin folder he handed me and flipped through the pages. "Why don't I just stay mute and you can say whatever you want to say? From what I've read in the papers so far, you've spun us a fairy tale romance. I'd hate to ruin it by saying I kissed a prince and he turned into a frog."
    He rumbled out a laugh, taking me by surprise. "Did he just seem like a frog to you because you enjoyed the kiss so much when you wanted to absolutely hate it?"
    My cheeks flushed and I feigned a shudder of disgust. "I'd hate to crush your hopes and dreams but it wasn't all that special. I've had and will still have better."
    His eyes narrowed. "You're prohibited from kissing other men, Charlotte. Ever."
    I raised a brow, chuckling. "Ever?" 
    "I mean, at least while you're married to me," he clarified, his jaw clenching when he realized his error. 
    "I don't know why you'd care," I said with a roll of my eyes. "It's not like you're keeping your legs crossed with other women while married to me."
    "It's a marriage of convenience," he bit out, looking agitated now. "And I'm a man with needs."
    I scoffed. "And I don't? It's the twenty-first century, Brandon, and your caveman instincts are really out of