Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
It’s a bizarre way to get my father’s approval, but then I wonder if anyone could have done it any other way.
“Why did you throw away the gun?” I ask Dawson. “My father was going to kill you.”
He smiles as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I know you love your family, Honey. And their approval is important to you. I have no reason to be in this world if I can’t be by your side.”
I slap him on the shoulder, a blush heating my cheeks. I love his answer, but it’s humiliating and always only for me to hear.
Dawson has a reputation to uphold, after all.
CHAPTER 57
Honey
My heart is pounding as they finish the signage. It’s taken me six months to build this from scratch.
The stylish sign reads ‘Honey and Bear.’ And in two days, we’re officially opening.
“You did good,” Rya says, putting her hand on my shoulder in approval. Her other hand rests on her stomach, which has only begun showing in the last few weeks.
After their official honeymoon, Rya was greeted with a surprise. More specifically, a bun in the oven. Not so surprisingly, she’s come around to the idea of being a mother. And as ruthless as Crue might be, he has been ridiculously cautious of anything that might harm the unborn child, including an entire renovation of one of the wings to the penthouse. And Rya’s going slightly mad in the process.
I receive a text message from Dawson and open it immediately. There are numerous images of toys and lingerie in his new store called ‘Honey,’ and legally, I own half. I went in as a partner, but Dawson credited his inspiration to his “darling fiancée” as he announced to the press.
I stare down at the giant rock on my finger. It should feel strange being a soon-to-be wife, but it doesn’t.
Not when it’s with the right person.
Even if he is the most desirable man in all of America.
He’s all mine.
Forever.
Always.
For as long as he quenches my sexual curiosity.
I’m starting to think my soon-to-be husband might have bitten off more than he can chew.
But I’m not at all surprised when I feel heat behind my ear. “Do you like the merchandise?” Dawson asks. I roll my eyes, very familiar with his ability to sneak up behind me. Rya has found interest within the store. Obviously, I was more immersed in the images of toys he sent through.
“Hmm,” I purr as I wrap my arms around his neck and look into his bluer-than-blue eyes. “It depends if the user knows how to use them. I hope they know how to please me.”
His smile promises promiscuous things.
“Dawson.” A woman’s Russian accent demands his attention.
We both turn to face a beautiful woman with two bodyguards flanking her.
“Anya, what are you doing here?” Dawson asks and stands in front of me protectively.
“I’m trying to find the whereabouts of my brother. We need to talk.”
A cold chill runs up my spine. This woman is ruthless and cruel, and in the same light I’ve seen others around my father. But this woman is willing to flip the world over. Dawson politely smiles and glances inside at Rya, who is watching. Her guards are close.
“Perhaps we should speak privately,” he politely asks, then turns his back on her to face me. “Go inside for a little bit. Nothing will happen.”
“Who is she?” I question.
There are no secrets between us.
“Anya Ivanov. You could say a business partner of sorts. I’ll be inside shortly, Honey.”
I eye the woman over his shoulder, who stares at me with little curiosity. She is breathtakingly beautiful, the type where you know her beauty would cut you deep.
I sigh, but I understand this is also one of those partnerships with which Dawson wants me to have no association. I kiss his cheek and walk into the café. Rya is watching through the window when I join her.
“Pretty,” Rya comments on Anya as she rubs her belly.
“Violent,” I add. All types of power and force ooze from Anya as she speaks feverishly with Dawson.
But as quickly as she arrived, she nods in appreciation and steps back into the chic black car.
Dawson walks into the café, the little bell on top of the door ringing as he blows out a breath.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, suddenly wanting to knead some dough or take my fiancé into the back room.
“No. New York is about to be flipped on its head,” he casually says. “But it won’t affect us.”
He walks up, quickly throwing me over his shoulder as I squeal. “Dawson!”