Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” After a few minutes, I can’t keep the questions from bubbling out, even though I’m rightfully insulted by that mistress crap. “What’s the Oak? Why are they so fancy? Who are we meeting exactly? Is there food involved or are you just treating me like arm candy?”
“Questions.” He sighs. “The Oak is a private club. It’s essentially the most exclusive place in North America. You have to be a senator, a famous actor, or obscenely rich to get membership. My friends and I have been members there for years now.”
“Good for you,” I mutter, refusing to be impressed. “Must be nice.”
“We’re having dinner with Carmine, who you met, Evander, Gareth, Ford, and their wives. The whole crew.”
“Then there’s us.” I glance at him. “You know we’re not together, right? Did you tell them that? They’re going to leap to conclusions.” I blush slightly.
“I might’ve mentioned something,” he says, sounding vague.
“Mentioned… what, exactly?”
His grin is almost sheepish. “Well. I actually told them we’re dating.”
My jaw drops. “Lanzo, what the fuck?”
“It’s easier this way. Carmine knows about Burian, but the others don’t, and I don’t want to get them involved if they don’t have to. And we definitely don’t want the wives to know anything about this. Though Evander might be useful, his power base is up in Chicago, not down here. And anyway, it’s too dangerous.”
“I thought you said they’d be helpful.” I rub the bridge of my nose. A migraine’s coming like a speeding train. “And I’m not dating you. I’m never dating you.”
“That’s a matter of personal opinion.”
“Lanzo. I’m serious. You are so beyond not my type.”
“I seemed like your type when my mouth was down between your legs.”
I turn beet red, glaring at him. “That whole mistake was a trauma response, okay? I was venting some very complicated emotions.”
“Yes, of course, you were venting them through your wet pussy onto my mouth.”
“Please, as if you didn’t throw yourself at me.”
“I seem to recall you appearing in the doorway of that room with some very attractive fuck-me eyes.”
My hands spread, appalled. “I did not have fuck-me eyes. I’ve never had fuck-me eyes in my life.”
“You did last night. I’ve seen fuck-me eyes before, and you were practically drooling at me. You were salivating.”
“I’m going to grab that wheel and Thelma and Louise us both off a cliff if you don’t take it back.”
He laughs, obviously enjoying my embarrassment. “I might almost believe you if you hadn’t had a very lovely orgasm with my name on your lips.”
“On second thought, I’m turning my murder-suicide into just a straight-up murder.”
“Get mad all you want, but telling my friends you’re mine is going to make everything easier. There will be fewer awkward questions.”
I lean forward, face in my hands. I can’t believe this is happening right now. “Did you even think this through?”
“A little bit.”
“They’re going to want to know how we met.”
He pauses. “Online.”
“Great, we met online. Where online? What application? Bumble? Tinder? eHarmony? Who messaged who first? What did you say? What was our first date like? Where was it? Who kissed who first?”
He frowns. “I see your point.”
“I’m starting to doubt your ability to keep me safe.”
“Never doubt that.” He sighs as he pulls down a lonely driveway leading away from the main road. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Ahead, a massive wall appears, with a gate across the road. A man in a black suit comes out of a small guardhouse, peers in at Lanzo, then waves us through.
“They really do know you here,” I say, watching as we twist up a long pathway through massive, perfectly manicured trees.
Lanzo ignores my comment. “Tell my friends what you think works. I’ll play along with whatever you say. Please, just trust that this is the easiest thing for everyone.”
I clench my jaw. I’m tempted to tell him to fuck off—but there’s something in his expression that makes me stop.
These are his friends. And from what I gathered at Carmine’s house, he hasn’t seen them in a while. If he says this is for the best, then what do I care? I’m not in this to make these people happy. It doesn’t matter if Lanzo wants me to pretend to be his mail-order bride. I’m here to collect a three-million-dollar payout and nothing more.
“Fine, but you better be a gentleman.” I lean forward, mouth falling open, as the Oak comes into view. “Wow, that’s one hell of a building.” It looks like an enormous Roman temple made from marble and ringed by columns.
“Thank you,” he says, which I think is a first. “And you’ll like the inside even better.”
Chapter 14
Renata
He wasn’t kidding. The inside is ridiculous.
It looks like a huge social club built for eighteenth-century royalty. Sumptuous is the only word that comes to mind. The entry room is obscenely big with multiple halls leading off into other area. There are something like half a dozen crystal chandeliers, priceless paintings on the walls, a couple statues I actually recognize from an art history coffee table book Grandpop bought me when I turned sixteen, and lavish furniture.