“We should get married.”
The last person Hermione expects to propose to her apropo of nothing is Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa Black, since she’d divorced her husband and moved to Paris to open her event planning company. Narcissa Black, who is stern and ethereal and intoxicating, who runs her business with expert precision. All of which would be fine if she wasn’t also the hottest thing Hermione’s ever seen and her boss.
“Excuse me?”
Hermione follows Narcissa into her office, sits across from her desk when prompted. She bites back nervous, incredulous laughter when Narcissa sits beside her, leaning in close instead of behind the desk.
“We should get married.” Narcissa thinks her point is quite clear. “I’ve noticed guests of our clients making…overtures. Towards you and, occasionally, myself. As a business plan, it would make events easier. If we were to get married.”
Yes, a business plan. Not because the idea of seeing Hermione wearing her ring makes her stomach warm. Not because Hermione is brilliant and incredible at running events. Because she looks gorgeous in her evening gowns in the low lights of ballroom dances.
Even though she’s asking, the last thing Narcissa expects is Hermione’s answer.
“Yes.”