Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
‘I-I don’t believe you.’
‘No?’
‘No.’ Remy might be a lot of things, a lot of things I don’t yet understand, but he isn’t that. He isn’t that kind of corrupt, I know, as the image of him flickers to life in my head.
His broad shoulders blocking out the sunlight, his face smiling down at me, shining with such love.
But that’s not a reasoning I’ll share as, from my scrambled brain, one thought rises above the morass.
‘If I am his Emile’s daughter, then I wouldn’t just deserve a share. I would be owed it.’
Like a child thwarted, he huffs unhappily. ‘It was a slip of the tongue. Good catch.’ ‘You’re not his child. Remy made sure of that, though not before he’d fucked you first.’ Suddenly, his face looms closer, spittle hitting my face as he rants. ‘You’re just the child of his whore of an ex!’ He releases me, but not before pushing me back down against the stone bench.
‘This had got nothing to do with me. I never met Emile—I don’t even want his money.’ Money I know nothing about. ‘Please Ben. Let me go.’ Tears track down my cheeks, my head feeling like it’s been split in two. And I’m scared. So scared.
‘No, you don’t need the money because now you have Remy.’ His head tilts to the side, his eyes feral. ‘Or you did. And now you’ll have me.’ His fingers trace my cheek and I do everything in my power not to move, not to show how his how repulsive I find his touch. ‘One way or another.’
‘No, Ben. Not like this, please.’
‘It’s not ideal, of course. But it shouldn’t have come to this, you know. I saw you first. In the office on your first day. Remember I told you that?’
‘At the club.’ I try to nod and wince and try to swallow my fear. My mouth dry is so dry, parched. Whatever he used to knock me out has left me with a terrible taste in my mouth. ‘You said I looked like a fish out of water.’
‘That’s right.’ He seems please that I remember, his hand retracting from my jaw. ‘I didn’t even know who you were then, but I wanted you. It’s just a shame I was already off my head when I saw you.’ His eyes fall to my chest as he readjusts my jacket by the lapels. ‘I think I frightened you off a little.’
‘No, that’s not it—’
His sharp gaze rises, his expression sardonic. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, Rose. After I behaved the way I did, there was no turning the clock back. You were never going to see me in a favourable light. I could tell you were already smitten with him. Before my error, I could’ve courted you. You might have fallen in love with me. But he hid you from the start. He acted unfairly. He always did, even when we were kids.’
I bite my tongue from yelling that’s not true—that the brute in front of me is just a pale facsimile of the man I love. That he’s crazy if he thinks for one solitary minute he ever had a chance. ‘You weren’t interested in me. Not really.’ I almost choke on my words.
‘Oh, you’re wrong.’ I screw my eyes tight shut as his lips brush my head. ‘But I blew my chance thanks to a little too much cocaine. So, I didn’t bother trying afterwards. At least, not romantically.’ His voice turns cold and I stiffen as his hands feather my shoulder, brushing the sides of my breasts, the touch testing yet blatant.
And sickening.
‘You told me about Amelie—why would you tell me the engagement was fake if you didn’t want me to fall in love with Remy?’
Disappointment ripples across his face, a look quickly replaced by distaste as he drops to the chair, his legs wide and relaxed, his arms dropped negligently to his thighs.
‘You really aren’t very bright, are you? Staying with him after he lied to you, still defending him after the proof I showed this afternoon? The way he’s lied to you again and again and yet you still would go back to him?’
‘I thought you were sincere when you didn’t hit on me. When you didn’t hang him out to dry.’ I try to remember what he showed me in the café; the photographs, documents, but my brain feels like an Etch A Sketch that’s been shaken to the max.
‘I believe you Americans call it playing the long game. Though I did think about fucking you, about getting you so drunk that afternoon that you couldn’t say no. But driving you farther way wouldn’t have helped my cause. And you might’ve told Remy, and excuse me for saying so, but one fuck wasn’t worth spoiling my plans. You’re not worth dying over.’