Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“You have to eat,” Reid said. “I’m going to insist.”
“Who do you think you are?”
“I think I’m your husband,” he said adamantly. “You haven’t eaten well in the last couple days, not since our dinner at Mosaic.”
“I’ve kind of had a lot on my mind.” I looked away.
“And you think I haven’t? I’m a suspect in the murder of my father, Zee. Lacey is in custody. For fuck’s sake, you still need to eat.”
I sighed. He wasn’t wrong. But my stomach felt like bricks. No way could I swallow any food right now. “Whatever you want is fine.”
“Good. It’s my fucking wedding night. I want a steak.”
“I don’t like red meat.” I’d told him that at Mosaic, but why should he remember? I was only his damned wife.
“Tough. That’s what I’m having. You said you weren’t hungry.”
True, I did. I turned away from him and faced the king-sized bed. It loomed in front of me like a giant. Why? I didn’t know. I’d already slept in it next to Reid. We’d made love in it.
Still, it seemed a stranger to me, nearly as much a stranger as the man I’d just married.
Wasn’t marriage supposed to bring two people closer? Instead, an ocean now lay between Reid and me. We were on two separate coasts, a giant body of water separating us.
Reid fumbled with his intercom. “Deirdre, I’d like a steak. Ribeye, rare. Baked potato and something green. Broccoli if you have it.”
“Got it. What about Mrs. Wolfe?”
Reid sighed audibly. “Salmon. And a salad with balsamic vinaigrette.”
I widened my eyes. He remembered I liked salmon, and that I’d had balsamic vinaigrette on my salad at Mosaic.
Nothing. That proved nothing except that he had a good memory, which any brilliant businessman could lay claim to. It had nothing to do with me.
“I said I wasn’t hungry.” I still didn’t turn to face him.
“Bring in a bottle of Taittinger,” Reid said. “Two flutes, and some fresh strawberries.”
“Got it, Mr. Wolfe,” said the voice of Deirdre.
Taittinger was champagne. Reid knew I didn’t drink much. Though I had drunk at the last wedding—Dom Perignon to be exact. Much more expensive than Taittinger. Of course, that had been a wedding where the couples actually wanted to get married.
And that, right there, was the issue. I did want to be married to Reid. I’d fallen hopelessly down the rabbit hole of love.
“Did you happen to remember I don’t really drink much?” I asked with an edge.
“Maybe it’s not for you,” he said snidely.
Fine. I huffed. I deserved that.
But I loved him. I loved him so much, and this was nothing but a convenience for him.
Though he had asked to take me to a nice wedding dinner. He didn’t have to do that, and I’d thrown the gesture back in his face. Sure, I wasn’t overly hungry, but he’d never fall in love with me as long as I was acting like a bitch. Already I could tell he was losing patience.
“Zee,” he said softly.
Finally I turned around and met his gaze. He was so handsome, so very handsome. But his blue eyes were tired. Tired and resigned.
He was a suspect in a criminal investigation, and I was being an immature brat.
“Yes?” I said, this time my tone not snide or bitchy.
“I know this isn’t how either of us expected to have a wedding. But this will help both of us.”
“I understand that, Reid.”
“Do you? Because I wanted to give you a wedding dinner. Then a wedding night. I wanted this to be perfect for you.”
“Perfect would be marriage for the right reasons.”
He sighed. “I know that. But I’m very fond of you, and you know how attracted I am to you.”
Fond didn’t cut it. I was in love. So hopelessly in love. No way could Reid Wolfe ever love me. Sleeping with me was one thing. But loving me?
I was damaged goods.
“I’m fond of you too,” I finally said.
He touched my cheek, and a spark shot through me.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m going to be honest with you, and I want you to be honest with me.”
I nodded. “All right.”
“I want to give you a wedding night. I want to make love to you all night in that bed. Please.”
“It’s your right.”
“Damn it, Zee.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair. “You’ve got to give me a bone here.”
Why was I being a bitch again? I could cut him off. Tell him I wasn’t sleeping with him anymore, but I’d be punishing myself as well.
“Today was hard on both of us,” he continued. “Morgan was an ass to you. Then you got forced into marriage. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you—”
“Tell me what?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll be in my study if you need me. I’ll let you know when our dinner is ready.”