Selma snickered as she eased into the passenger seat of Solomon’s black Hummer. “Why in the hell did you tell the man his fiancée kept murmuring she loved you in her sleep?” “I just said what happened.” Solomon slammed her door shut. He glided to the driver’s side, failing to see what was the big deal. When he finally opened his door, he caught the last few notes of Selma’s amused laughter. “I thought the man was going to come out of his seat and choke the living daylights out of you,” she admitted. “It wasn’t that serious.” He started the vehicle. “Uh-uh. And the Pope isn’t Catholic.” Solomon shook his head and pulled out of the parking garage. In retrospect, the dinner table had gone awfully quiet after his short stroll down memory lane. “If Jonas is insecure about me and Ophelia’s relationship, that’s his problem, not mine.” “It’ll be your problem if he prohibits Ophelia from seeing you.” “What?” Solomon glanced over at her. “He can’t do that.
What do You think about The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque)?
