I point to the suitcase and overnight bag. It's a new luxury brand called Southern Gal. It's a white cream with brown and gold leather trim. When I saw it, I thought it looked perfect for her, especially going to the country. It's nothing my previous fiancées would have chosen, but they were more into Dallas high society. But part of the reason I chose Georgia is that she's not like them. I'm confident she can do Dallas high society or country. I question, "You don't like what I chose for you?"

She studies it, then refocuses on me. "It's a beautiful set."

A spark of satisfaction ignites in me. I'm glad I got it right and she approves. Then I reprimand myself for caring what she thinks.

I'm not going to get close to this girl.

I'm going to use her for what I want. Then we're both moving on.

The last thing I need is someone messing with me again.

"Good. Glad you like it. Go switch your stuff out," I assert.

She puts her hand on her hip and tilts her head up at me. "Don't be bossy, Sebastian. If I'm going to be your wife, you don't get to boss me around like in the office. You need to treat me with respect."

I lean into her ear. "If you want me to treat you like you're my wife, then we're going to have to eliminate this no-sex thing."

Her face turns as red as a cherry tomato. Her blue eyes spark against her flushed cheeks, turning my cock harder.

There's a knock on the door. I tear my gaze off her and open the door, instructing, "Huck, come on in."

Huck steps inside, removes his cowboy hat, and nods to Georgia. "Ma'am. I assume you're Ms. Georgia Peach?"

Georgia beams. "Yes, I am. And you are?"

He holds his hand out. "Huck Peterson, the attorney."

"Nice to meet you. Even if it's for this weird arrangement that Sebastian and I have," she says, giving me an uncomfortable look.

Huck chuckles. "Ms. Peach, there's no need for any embarrassment here. I've had a lot of strange contracts in my life, and I can assure you, this isn't the craziest."

"No?" she questions.

"No, ma'am. Is there a place we can sign?" he inquires.

"Sure. Why don't we go to the table?" she suggests.

I step between them. "Hold up. Georgia, go pack."

Her eyes turn to slits. "Why do I need to pack now? Don't you want me to sign?"

"I have another issue I need to talk with Huck about real quick."

"About our prenup?" she quizzes.

"No. Something that doesn't concern you," I lie. "Can you please go pack and give us a minute?"

Distrust fills her expression, but she finally leaves the room, wheeling the suitcase and overnight bag behind her.

When she's out of earshot, I keep my voice low and ask Huck, "The revisions are all done?"