The Stranger Behind My Orgasm novel Chapter 300

Chapter 300: WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Abigail

Marcus shrugged. "I don’t know. But here." He reached behind him and brought his hand forward, revealing a single red rose. "For you."

I stared at it. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Put it in your hair?" he suggested. "Wear it behind your ear? I don’t know, boss. I’m not a florist. You can eat it too,"

I laughed, rolling my eyes but accepting the rose. "You’re being silly, but thank you."

"Anytime. We should probably head for that meeting, yeah?"

We walked toward the elevator together, but before we could reach it, one of the junior executives — Keith, I think — stepped forward holding a small envelope.

"Ms. Kellerman," he said, bowing slightly.

"Congratulations on your promotion. I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier."

Earlier meaning a week ago?

He handed me the envelope. Inside was a gift card to my favorite restaurant.

"Thank you," I mumbled, bewildered. "Thank you very much."

The elevator doors opened to reveal Ted and Kate, already inside, each holding enormous gift boxes wrapped in silver paper.

"Okay," I said slowly, stepping into the elevator with Marcus. "What’s going on? Why is everyone giving me gifts?"

Ted grinned, his eyes crinkling. "Just because we like you, Abigail. No special reason."

"Absolutely no reason at all," Kate agreed, adjusting her grip on the box. "Just... you know, because."

"Well, I can’t carry all that," I mumbled. "Thank you, guys,"

"We’ll carry it for you," Kate said quickly.

"Are you two even going to the rooftop? You weren’t part of the meeting,"

"We kind of are?"

The elevator didn’t stop at any other floors. It rose directly to the rooftop access. When the doors opened, the wind hit me first, carrying the scent of the city below.

Finnegan’s helicopter sat in the center of the helipad, and next to it stood Finnegan.

My breath caught in my throat. On either side of the path from the elevator to the helicopter, Wolfe Corp employees were lined up in rows — accountants and engineers, executives and interns, dozens of them — and every single one held a gift. They were all smiling.

Finnegan stood at the end of the line, dressed in a black suit, his hair tousled by the wind, his eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.

"Finnegan," I started, my voice barely audible over the wind and my own thundering heartbeat, "what?"

He began walking toward me. I found myself moving too, and we met in the middle.

He stopped before me, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his emerald-green eyes.

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