From Boardroom to Bedroom

“That, too, sir.”

Sophie was still reeling from the girlfriend comment when Nigel took her hand and led her up the stone steps to the front entrance. The architecture alone was drool-worthy and Sophie couldn’t wait to see the interior. She could only imagine the videos she could shoot from here...if she were actually here as herself and had the opportunity to do such things.

She missed her design shoots, but since going undercover, she’d had to back off just a bit. She still replied to comments and answered her DMs on her social media accounts, but she was itching to get back to new material...and Shrewsbury Hall was the absolute perfect backdrop.

Too bad she wasn’t here as Sophie Blackwood, interior designer.

Hell, she wasn’t even here as Roslyn Andrews, consultant. She was here as an imposter of an imposter. Good grief. It would be a miracle if she didn’t need therapy after this entire ordeal.

And after the hit to her mental state—and, inevitably, to her heart—she had better find some seriously juicy dirt on Miranda once she returned to New York.

“From what you’ve said before, I wouldn’t have taken your grandmother for the bourbon type,” Sophie muttered as they reached the door. “I assumed tea and cookies, or biscuits as you call them.”

Nigel laughed. “Don’t try to stereotype her. You’ll never find a box that fits the personality of Dame Claire Worthington.”

Sophie didn’t know

but before she could decide, Nigel opened the double doors and

Sophie took in the magnificent foyer that extended up to the second floor. Straight ahead was

the fresh floral arrangements at the base of each staircase were perfectly placed in large marble urns. Not only was the entrance something from a royal magazine but the fragrant aroma from the wintery

tale and Roslyn wished

“There’s my city boy.”

silver-haired lady had on a pair of jeans and a bright green sweater paired with little silver sneakers. Not at all the image Sophie had had in her mind of the

him before easing back and turning her focus, and affection, to Sophie. She

welcome,” she greeted, pulling away from

you, Dame Worthington.

grandmother waved a hand and shook her head. “None of this Dame nonsense. Those titles are so archaic. Call me Claire. And while you’re at it,

we at least take our coats off and get settled before you start grilling her?” Nigel asked. “And you ordered me to bring a date,

if you ever listen to me,” Claire muttered. “You’ve never brought a woman here in your life, so I’m already impressed with this

seemed to appear out of nowhere, along with