Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
A foot away, Zach’s untarnished hands taunted me. Smooth, long fingers. Absent of calluses, save for a single one beneath his right middle finger. From Go, I deduced. We were moonless nights and perihelion days. Arctic cold and equatorial heat. Old money and no money.
I tore one-fourth of a single paper towel sheet from a holder, wiped my hands as dry as I could with the tiny scrap, and tucked it in half over the crest of the faucet to dry. The only reason we hadn’t switched to a washable towel roll stood in the living room, arguing with her sister over who would make a more suitable bride for the devil before me. We couldn’t afford another clogged sink from Tabby.
A quick glance at Zach told me he’d never been poor enough to reuse paper towels.
Well, if you want me in your life, you better get used to my penny-pinching habits.
I marched to him, determination fortifying each step. But the minute I reached his six-foot personal bubble, he got out of my way. On instinct, it seemed. Like the mere idea of my filthiness rubbing into his goldenness made him want to vomit. He really didn’t like the idea of us touching. I was beginning to take offense.
“You’re asking for some serious overtime and unconventional concessions.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Come back to the negotiation table, and we might just have a deal.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
I shook my head, sighing. “You think too logically. There’s one thing you’re not considering.”
“What is that?”
“Emotions. I have them. And right now, most of them are dedicated to hating your guts. So, you’ll have to meet me halfway.”
He tucked his phone back into his pocket, sliding the knife into its concealed holster. “What is it that you want?”
I wondered if he realized that the picture-perfect veneer he’d worked so hard to erect had begun to crumble before me. Sure, a lot of moving parts made up Zachary Sun, and I didn’t understand 99.99% of them. But I’d figured out one important thing. Something dark and unusual lurked beneath the most eligible bachelor in the Northern Hemisphere. Something terrifying he didn’t want the outside world to see.
“You can keep your crappy traditional wage structure. I want no part of it.” I inched closer, just to push his boundaries, reveling at the way his jaw set at my proximity. “You’ll pay me in the form of legal fees. Cover the six-figure retainer and hourly fee, then pay me minimum wage over the table and fifty bucks per hour under it.” The last thing I wanted was to line Vera’s pockets while enriching my own.
Zach didn’t even flinch at the number. “You don’t want the money to reach your stepmother.”
“Correct. And money is no issue for you.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll hire you the best fucking lawyers in the DMV.”
I swallowed, trying hard to keep the emotions at bay. I knew it sounded too good to be true, and yet, I couldn’t stop myself from hoping. Hope was the cruelest form of punishment. Normally, I knew better than to let it trickle into my system. But I was tired and foolish and, for the first time in my life, a little sorry for myself.
I held his gaze. “You understand that, whatever goes toward that lawyer, I can never pay back, right?”
“I can afford a whole continent of you, Farrow.” Of you, not for you. Just one letter shy of romantic. “And you’ll have representation so ruthless that Mrs. Ballantine will run to the settlement table before you even file the first motion.”
I shook my head, frantic eyes darting in her direction, cursing myself for forgetting our proximity. “She can’t know I lawyered up.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
I pressed my lips together, staring hard at his throat. At the long, elegant column. Masculine and thick. I’d never uttered these next words to anyone before. But I needed to. He was my only shot at this. What a cruel twist of fate. My salvation had come from the devil.
“There’s a second clause to our agreement.” I tucked my upper lip in my mouth, biting down, toying with the words I feared would sound crazy. “I need you to hire a private investigator to look into the will. Dad would never keep me out of it. He just wouldn’t.”
“Consider it done.”
He didn’t question why I’d fight for a cleaning business, like the lawyers had during the free consults. Didn’t advise me to abandon Dad’s legacy. Didn’t judge me for mourning the future I’d lost. The one where I retired from fencing with an Olympic gold, and Dad and I ran Maid in Maryland together. Just the two of us.
In fact, his face never wavered from its default blank canvas. No judgment, no disbelief, no condescension. Just boredom and a dash of impatience for whatever meeting had him glancing at his watch every now and then. I appreciated the simplicity of his selfishness. Zachary Sun cared about himself and only himself. Anything outside of that purview didn’t deserve his concern.