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)
“Congratulations on your engagement,” Mrs. Sanders says while standing. “I don’t believe there’s anything else to discuss at this time.” She’s quick to leave, no doubt unimpressed with the entire ordeal.
The room empties out, and I’m uncertain if they believe we’re engaged or if they’re just relieved they don’t have to deal with the scandal. Either way, half don’t look me in the eyes as they leave. They all look at Dean Chambers, though, but he doesn’t bother to spare them a glance. He stays seated, his chair swaying slowly left and right, and I wait just like he does for everyone else to leave.
I’m fully aware this isn’t the end of our conversation. If anything, it’s just the beginning.
My collar is hot and tight at my neck as I stare down Brooklyn’s father. My cuff links are buffed and shine with wealth. I’ve known this man all my life—from poker nights with my father and social gatherings and galas. From contracts and business deals gone wrong, we wrecked any professional relationship we might have had.
He’s never looked at me with so much disdain. Even after all the shit we’ve been through, never like this. Hell I probably know him better than my father, his former friend and longtime foe, does. Both of our families have fuck you money most can’t even comprehend… but fucking his daughter? Hell, even a prick like me knows better.
I know how money moves and how much is at stake. So I patiently wait, biding my time. All the while, the memory of Brooklyn’s cunt and how good she felt keep me wondering if last night was worth it.
“Does your father know about this?” he questions when we’re left with nothing but tormenting silence. The door to the conference room remains open, so he keeps his voice low. Not wanting anyone to hear what he has to say to me.
I clear my throat. “I’ve yet to tell him.” I hold his gaze, and all I see is spite from a man who has every right to hate me.
“And what do you think he’ll have to say about—”
“She’s my fiancée,” I stress as if that’s going to smooth over the ripples it’ll cause in social circles that fucking matter.
“Bullshit,” her father practically spits. He holds nothing but venom as he spews, “There’s no fucking way she’d ever be with a man like you.”
My lips pick up into a smirk at a thought.
She said something about daddy issues…
I keep the remark to myself. Not because I don't want to piss him off, but more because I wouldn’t put it past him to record the conversation to fuck me over with it. The Chambers can’t be trusted, and now I’m supposedly engaged to one.
I clench my jaw at the thought. For years, I’ve wanted her, and the one night I fall prey to her charm, it’s fucking recorded. There’s no chance this is a coincidence.
Without a response, he gets back to the issue at hand, wanting to destroy my life and get me fired. “You fucked a student, and you won’t—”
“I fucked my future wife,” I interject, wanting the upper hand. Tension rises in my shoulders.
“There are forms and protocols when relationships…” He starts as if he’s found a loophole.
“I have yet to send them, but I have time,” I inform him. I’m certain the forms need to be filed within months. She’s just transferred, and the semester starts next week. “I have time,” I repeat.
“This is a crock of shit, and you and I both know it,” he bites out, his patience wearing thin. There’s also a hint of defeat in his tone.
“I believe we all have a vested interest in our private lives staying private,” I tell him with an arched eyebrow and determined stance.
“Who sent the video?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who took it?” he questions, anger rolling through his shoulders.
“I don’t know.”
“You fucking did it, you lying prick,” he accuses.
I bite my tongue, knowing I’m the one whose career will end if anything happens. My shoulders are tight, my muscles coiled as I inform him that I will let him know once I discover who violated my privacy.
I nearly say “who violated your daughter,” but again, I bite my tongue for the sake of my tenure.
“Do I need to remind you that I’m a professor of law at your university? My lawyers are already on it. I took care of that this morning.” There will be multiple meetings, and lawyers talking to lawyers. It could be months, but I will find out. I’ll know, and they’ll fucking pay. Only then can this facade of matrimony be laid to rest.
“When exactly did the two of you decide to get married?” he continues the interrogation.
“Last week,” I spit the lie out quickly.
“What are the odds that your story and my daughter’s story will match?”