Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
He didn’t respond, letting my snotty, childish tone haunt me. I needed to get out of there. I needed space. Sitting next to him for the last two hours only impounded the increasing pressure and doubt. It simmered to a bubble, rising until I thought I’d explode.
I just needed to get out.
I stood.
“Do you need me to bend you over the desk, princess?”
I slowly turned my gaze to him and asked softly, “What?”
Missing the edge to my question, he shrugged and rested his arms along the back of the chair—the definition of relaxed.
While I clung with my fingertips to the top, over holding back my explosion.
“I didn’t plan on it, but I’m always happy to squeeze you in.” His lips quirked up and then he…winked. He actually fucking winked.
Squeezed in? Squeezed. Fucking. In?
As if I was one of many in his long line of women to play with. As if every doubt I’d shoved aside was true.
And then he winked, like a confirmation.
That. Mother. Fucker.
Adios grip. Au revior calm. Arrivederci control.
“No, Lucian. I do not want to be bent over your fucking desk. I don’t want to be fucking squeezed in.”
His arrogant smile dropped with each enunciated syllable.
Watching the wariness creep across his features did not fill me with as much satisfaction as I’d hoped. I still stood there with an abundance of angry, anxious energy, looking for release.
“I’m showing up to these interviews—giving everything I have—just to find someone I don’t want to find. It’s all a giant waste of time when I could be focusing on ways to ensure this company ends up in the right hands—my hands. I could be giving my time toward earning more profits or more notoriety or anything other than listening to these idiots drivel on about nothing worth the salt of Quinn Music Group.”
Unable to look into the dark depths of his eyes for fear of them pulling me into forgetting his squeezed in comment and agreeing to whatever he wanted, I turned away and paced. The emotions bubbled over and poured out. I word vomited every thought, doubt, and fear that wouldn’t let go and had risen from the depths I’d shoved them since Emily cornered me.
A manic laugh slipped free, and I continued. “Hell, maybe I waste so much time on this that I never find a way to purchase the five percent I need. I may end up losing the majority of my company.” Another laugh—higher and choppier than the last. “Oh, my god, maybe I end up losing the company completely because you take it away from me. And then what’s to stop you from changing the name to something else? Then,” I dragged out like a lunatic, throwing my arms wide. “I’ll have nothing. No company with my family name because it won’t be a family company anymore. All my dreams I’ve had since I was a little girl will be washed down the drain. And just like that, the company I grew up loving, the company I gave everything for, the company I dreamed of owning one day would be washed away by some asshole who thinks he can buy up whatever the fuck he wants.”
My rant left me exhausted and breathing heavy like I’d run a marathon instead of unleashing a torrent of raging emotions.
Not that you could tell by the man watching me. His position hadn’t changed. He still relaxed in his chair and lost the wary caution he watched me with when I started. He almost looked…pensive? As if I’d requested he answer a million-dollar question instead of losing my shit.
I tried to focus on slowing my breathing rather than the increasing length of silence. I tried to uncoil the tension wrapping around my neck rather than the heat stroking along my skin wherever his eyes moved. I tried counting but only got to twenty before I had to turn away and start again.
The silence lasted so long, I wondered if maybe he zoned out and hadn’t heard a word.
Which sounded insane, but why else would he still sit there casually for so long and say nothing?
When he finally spoke, I would have been less surprised if a shark jumped out of the Ohio River, up to the 20th floor of our building, burst through the window, and ate me.
“Marry me.”
I whipped around and screeched, “What?”
As if he hadn’t tossed out the most absurd suggestion I’d ever heard, he remained leaned back and calm. Part of me wondered if he actually said something more normal like, Barry’s Bees. Really, anything would have made more sense.
“What the fucking fuck?” I asked again.
He shrugged. Shrugged.
Instead of asking in another creative way, I stared with wide, expectant eyes that asked it all.
“So, here’s the thing. I made a deal with my godfather a long time ago, when I was young, that I would marry before he died,” he said, as if he was explaining the rules to Candy Land. “I assumed I had more than enough time before I would reach that deadline, but life pushed it up in a big way. Now, I find myself needing a bride to fulfill that promise with no one I’m particularly interested in.”