Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“It’s bad luck to spill the beans early.”
“I can hardly wait.” He pats my shoulder. “I suppose if I’m going to make you a partner, we may as well secure the deal by marrying you into the family.”
I stare at his back as he pushes around me and walks through the door. The last part wasn’t a joke. He’s serious. He’ll give me his blessing to marry his stepdaughter.
Jumping straight to marriage is taking things too fast, but what the hell. That’s where we would’ve ended up.
Good.
I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.
Before the month is out, Miss Starley will be Mrs. Violet Hart.
CHAPTER 4
Violet
I dig the money out of the front of my T-shirt and stare at the folded one-hundred-rand bills in my hand. There must be two thousand in total. My insides shake with fury. How dare Leon thrust his cash at me as if I’m a whore?
Pushing myself out of the broom closet, I take my bag from the cupboard, hang the strap over my shoulder, and walk to the basement as fast as my legs allow.
That arrogant asshole.
If he thinks he can buy me, he better think again. Plenty of women may fall at his feet, but I’m not one of them.
The floor is empty when I slam a palm on the swing doors and step inside. Too bad. I’ll just dump the money in his trashcan. If someone takes it before he comes in tomorrow, it will be an expensive lesson for him to learn. I know how much my stepdad pays the programmers, and it’s not a fortune. No one wants to throw away two thousand rand.
Two thousand.
My step falters.
Two thousand are a few bucks closer to winning my freedom, but no. I won’t use his dirty money, as he so eloquently put it. I’ll win my freedom on my own.
Just as I reach Leon’s desk, the office door opens, and my stepdad walks out. None other than Leon follows in his footsteps. Being a head taller than Gus, Leon pins me with his gaze from across the distance.
Gus gives me a speculative look as he crosses the floor. “Weren’t you done in here?”
I swallow my repulsion. Gus has that effect on me. “Almost.”
Gus changes his briefcase to his other hand and flashes us a smile from over his shoulder. “Night, kids. Don’t be naughty.”
When the doors swing shut behind him, a moment of silence follows while Leon and I measure each other. He makes the first move, his tall legs eating up the distance until he stands in front of me.
Staring down at me with a spark of warmth and a hint of softness in his eyes, he asks, “Changed your mind?”
I crumple the bills in my fist. “You’re not that lucky.”
His gaze widens a fraction when I grip the waistband of his jeans and tug him closer. The momentum brings our bodies together with a gentle collision. The surprise that flares in his eyes turns to heat. From the way his muscles tense, he’s gearing for action, but he waits quietly for my next move, which is to pull the waistband away from his stomach. His belt allows little leeway, forcing my fingers to brush over the flat, hard plane of his abdomen as I shove the money down the front of his jeans.
The intensity of his stare burns on my face as his lashes dip and his eyes tighten. His cold smile promises retribution, but I’m not scared of him. He won’t dare to touch me, not if he values his job, which I know he does. He’s been working hard to win Gus’s approval.
Patting the money where it sits on his groin, I go on tiptoes and tilt my face toward his ear. “No strings, this time, but don’t insult me again.”
When I pull away, he’s watching me with a glint in his eyes. His relaxed stance doesn’t fool me. He’s ready to pounce at any given moment.
“Is that what you think?” he asks. “That I insulted you?”
“How else am I supposed to interpret the cash you threw at me?”
“Exactly for what I intended it to be.” He leans closer. “Making sure your health is taken care of by feeding you.”
“My health isn’t your concern.”
“Is that so?” Rolling his shoulders, he drawls, “That’s where you’re wrong.”
I’ve had it. “This conversation is over.”
I may not be scared, but I’m at a disadvantage of not knowing my enemy. I don’t err by giving him my back. Keeping him in my view, I backtrack to the exit. He follows my retreat with the attention of a hunter keeping his prey in his sight, but he doesn’t move a muscle. Only the calculating smile remains on his lips as he lets me have the last word and allows me to escape.
Once I’m outside the building, I quit being brave. I run on unsteady legs across the empty parking lot and jump into my battered Honda without telling the guard good night. Keeping an eye on the exit of the building, I throw my bag on the passenger side before locking the doors and fitting my seat belt. The engine stutters when I turn the key.