Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
She laughed. “You know luck had nothing to do with it, Vance.”
Emery and I hadn’t seen each other since we’d landed in Boston six days ago. We said goodbye in the airport hangar, I watched her ride away in the Rolls I’d had Elliot book for her, and I went home to sleep like the dead for the next twelve hours.
We’d spent our final night in Monaco at the Grand Prix Gala, which was another charity function and gave the ultra-wealthy and famous an excuse to wear black-tie. I’d put on a tuxedo, and Emery had worn an ocean blue dress with lace on the top and a flowing, shimmering skirt.
I made her leave it on when we got back to our hotel room after because I loved getting to put my hand up a girl’s skirt. I had the layers of the front of it bunched over my forearm as I stood behind her and fucked her with two fingers. I enjoyed how I could pull my hand away at any time, her shirt would drop, and no one would know what we’d been doing a second ago. I didn’t take my fingers away from her, though. Not until I’d made her come and she’d leaned back into me, quivering from her orgasm.
But now we were home, and it forced us to return to our regular lives.
She’d left for New York on Tuesday morning for a conference and had squeezed in a quick job on Saturday before heading back. I’d had a ton of work to catch up on, but we’d texted every night, checking in to see how the other’s day had been.
It was Friday afternoon when my father marched into my office without so much as a knock on my door. He was no longer a chief executive, but he was the primary shareholder and president of HBHC, and his office sat ten floors above mine. It meant I wasn’t allowed to act pissed by this behavior.
“Family dinner is this Sunday at six,” he announced. “I expect you and your girlfriend to attend.”
“What?” I rolled back in my chair and stared at him.
Displeasure sliced through his expression because my father hated repeating himself. What he didn’t realize was he could cut down on that if he’d just stop blindsiding people.
“Consider this my invitation for her to join us.”
I narrowed my gaze. “You sure you don’t mean Sophia’s invitation?”
“No, I did not misspeak.” His expression was unreadable stone. “I would like to meet this woman who you seem so taken with.”
Damnit. On top of the media pictures from the gala, my social media team had leaned into the romance angle and posted the picture of Emery and me laughing. The one where we looked like we were in love. Had my father bought it? He usually was so perceptive.
Oh, shit. What if he was?
Did he see something I refused to consider?
“You’ve already met her,” I said, knowing this was a battle I was going to lose.
Unacceptable, his dark look said. Macalister Hale was world famous for his intensity and how he could make a person feel small, and I wished I was immune—but my gaze shifted away.
I cleared my throat to hide my discomfort. “I don’t know if Sunday works with her schedule.”
He delivered his order the same way he’d been doing my whole life. It was absolute. “Make it work.”
The discussion was over, so there was no reason for him to stay in my office, especially not when we both had work to do. He turned and exited in an identical manner to how he’d arrived—without pleasantries or respect.
Time and mistakes had reshaped my father over the last few years, but this man? He was the old version. Cold and authoritarian. It was like he hadn’t changed at all.
When my father had ruled over our house, we’d had weekly family dinners in the formal dining room, and he’d run them as a corporate meeting. Alice would summarize the projects she was working on and tasks still needing attention, and he would approve or reject any proposals she made before he’d turn his attention to his sons.
Royce had taken the brunt of it, not just because he was older, but how he’d resisted our father’s command. I’d always gone with the flow and told myself I didn’t care. It was pointless to fight because it was win at all costs in our family—so, who was supposed to win when we went up against each other?
No one did, as far as I was concerned.
I sat on the couch in my bedroom, scrolling absentmindedly through the news on my phone while digesting none of the information. Emery would be here soon, and while I was excited to see her again, I dreaded the evening. No amount of prep work could prepare her for what was in store.