Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I’m hit with the scent of Brooklyn’s vanilla shampoo as I swiftly turn her around to face me. Her eyes are as wide as saucers when she locks her stare with mine.
She teases, “Paranoid much?”
“Says the woman who just broke into my home.” Moving back to my desk, I put the gun back, noting she knows where it’s kept now.
“I didn’t break in, asshole. I used your key.”
I cock my head to the side. I usually come in through the garage. “What key?”
“The one I stole off your keychain this morning after you arrogantly kissed me without my consent.”
She’s testing my patience, and I don’t feel like I have any left at that moment. Especially when it comes to her.
“You want to talk about consent? You’re here uninvited after you stole my key.”
“I’m your fiancée, remember? I thought what’s yours is mine, Professor Wolf.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “That’s not at all what that means.”
“Well, my father always says I have no sense. Particularly when it comes to my choice of men.”
I half smile, nodding. “What do you want, Brooklyn?”
She flicks on the light and walks into my living room like she owns the damn place. The red knee-length dress she’s wearing sways, and the view of her ass eases the tension in my body. Red is definitely her color. It’s made for her, and I make a mental note of that. I’ll never get over the air about her. She’s fucking gorgeous, but there’s something else. She clears her throat, turning to face me, and says, “My father is cutting me off.”
We lock eyes.
“I have nothing if I keep this charade going.” She attempts to keep her tone even, but I hear the hitch in her voice. I’m here to tell you, I can’t help you. We have to tell the truth and call the whole thing off.”
“The fuck we do.”
“Did you not hear what I just said? I have nothing, and I can’t play house with you.” Her voice almost cracks as if she’s on edge. I swallow thickly. He really fucking cut her off? Or is this a lie? A trick?
I pause a moment and then say, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” she mocks. “What exactly shouldn’t I be worrying about? The fact that I won’t have a place to live or the fact that I won’t have money to eat? How should I not worry about that?”
“You said we had a deal.”
“That was before my father wanted to take everything away from me. What am I supposed to do, huh? Crash on your couch?”
“I’d much rather have you in my bed.”
“Excuse me?” Her chest rises and falls as she stares back at me in disbelief.
“You heard me.”
“I don’t think I did.” She contemplates it for a second. “What do you mean in your bed?”
“You’re my fiancée. What’s mine is yours,” I repeat her words from minutes ago. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”
I anticipate a retort or even backlash from my teasing, but she responds far too seriously.
“For how long?”
“For as long as it takes.” I look her up and down. It’s real. There’s no doubt it’s real, and he cut her off.
“As long as what takes?”
Not hesitating, I grab my wallet and hand her my black Amex card. She looks at it, then at me with a skeptical yet relieved expression.
“Just like that?”
“You’ll live here with me, and you can use that card for whatever you need.”
She looks at it a moment longer. “What about for what I want?”
My lips pick up in an asymmetric smile.
“Be my little whore, and I don’t give a fuck what you do as long as you hold up your end of the deal.” It should alarm me how much I mean that. I don’t keep girlfriends. I spoil an interest here and there, but giving them free rein with my wealth and allowing them to keep a key?
Never.
“Your whore?” she echoes back as if it’s offensive.
“My good little whore?” I offer in feigned clarification.
“You’re an asshole,” she roars, stomping her foot like it threatens me.
I scoff out a chuckle instead. “But you’re tempted?”
“Yes. I am tempted, but what happens after our deal is over? Where does that leave me? If my father cuts me off, I have no reassurance of getting it back once we’re done pretending to be husband and wife.”
“You can’t tell anyone the truth. It stays between me and you.”
Her eyes narrow, and I know she’s questioning whether she should keep our arrangement a secret. “Not to anyone. Not to your father or to Aspen or—"
“You’re asking me to lie to my best friend?”
“I’m asking you to lie to everyone.” I stress the word.
She swallows hard and nods for my answer to her initial question.
“Don’t you have a trust fund?”
“Not until I’m twenty-five, and it’s null and void if I get married before that.”