Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I state, “That’s three years from now.”
She smirks, realizing I know more about her than she gives me credit for.
“We aren’t going to keep this up for three years,” she states although her eyes reflect that she desperately needs that trust and security until she’s financially secure. How the hell can her own father do this to her?
“I would think not, but we can arrange something so you don’t have to worry.”
She nods although she seems uncertain.
“So do we have a deal?”
Her cautious gaze shifts toward the ceiling as if she’s waiting for an answer from God.
“What do I get out of this?” she finally asks.
“What do you want?”
“If I’m getting cut off, then I want a settlement when we split.”
“How much?”
“A million.”
It doesn’t surprise me that she demands this much. She probably spends that in a month. She has no sense of value for anything. I have millions in stocks alone with my own trust fund. My bar is the best in town, and it makes tons of revenue. And even it is pennies compared to what the brokerage account makes.
For a second, I contemplate the alternative before I rasp, “Done.”
She smiles. “I want a contract in writing.”
“I’ll have one for you in the morning.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Now what?”
“Now you get on your knees and thank me.”
She sasses, “Or what?”
“You can…” Looking her up and down with a predatory regard, I add, “Come here and kiss me.”
CHAPTER 9
Brooklyn
His home is a bachelor pad if I’ve ever seen one. No one will believe I live here. I continue to glance around while we’re eating breakfast the following morning. After we came to an agreement, I took a bath in his massive tub, thinking he’d join me in bed, but he didn’t.
I didn’t see him for the rest of the night, and then this morning, he’s standing in the kitchen bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with my coffee in his hand. Someone delivered us breakfast, and now we’re sitting on opposite ends of his long rectangular dining table like we’re in a business meeting. In a way, I guess we are.
I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t real. We’re not in love and engaged. It’s all a facade. However, when he’s looking at me with that devilish stare, and his tantalizing green eyes stare into my soul, it’s hard to distinguish between fact and fiction.
My parents never showed much love for each other, and my father always worked. From an early age, I promised myself I’d never be in a loveless marriage, but here I am, playing the part of his fiancée as if this is my very own version of a fucked-up Pretty Woman.
I want to ask him where he went last night because I looked for him. This place isn’t that large, and I didn’t see him anywhere before I climbed back into bed. I desperately want to know where he went and if he was with someone.
Out of nowhere, he interrupts my reckless thoughts, stating, “We should throw an engagement party, and by we, I mean you.” As I stare back at him, he tends to his eggs Benedict. His black coffee sends a gust of steam into the air, and I realize he’s serious.
“How lovely. I’ve always wanted to have no input from my future husband. If we’re going to have an engagement party, then I’ll need to redecorate.”
“What am I missing? I don’t have enough pink pillows and throw blankets for you?”
“As a matter of fact, you don’t have any pillows or throw blankets, so yes. It needs to look like I live here too, and right now, it only screams a place where you bring women to fuck.”
My fork scrapes against the plate as I scoop up a bit of hollandaise and eggs. Perfectly cooked.
“Rest assured, my little whore, I’ve never brought a woman here before.”
Shocked, I jerk back. “You’re lying.”
“What need do I have to lie to you?”
I take a sip of my coffee, and as I’m setting it back down on the table, I respond, “Then where do you fuck them?”
“The same place I fucked you.”
I’m hurt.
Deeply.
Profoundly.
Undeniably hurt by his reply.
I don’t know why, though. It’s honestly silly and stupid. Of course, I’m not the first woman he’s fucked on his bar.
I must have made a face since he asks, “That upsets you?”
I quickly recover, returning to the woman who hides it all. Especially her feelings.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Professor Wolf.” I go back to my breakfast although I have no appetite at all now.
“Your expression tells another story.”
“If by that you mean my surprise? I guess I thought you wouldn’t be that careless to be caught on video like you were with me.”
“It was a joke, Brooklyn,” he says, and I tell him it wasn’t funny. I almost ask him then where do you fuck the women you’re seeing, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to know. I regret ever asking.