Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“I wanted you to,” he claims.
“Yeah, well, I wanted a husband who didn’t already have a wife. Sucks to get it wrong, doesn’t it?” Uncapping a bottle of water, I take a slow sip, internally slapping myself when my hand starts to shake. “I need to shower if you can please go.”
“No.”
Sighing, I prop my ass on the edge of the coffee bar, staring out the window. “I don’t know what you want from me, Enzo. I’m here. I’m not running. I played your game tonight. I didn’t kill your precious Katana—”
“She’s not my anything.”
“—so leave me to the little peace my life still has.”
“I told you I want this to be real.”
My eyes snap to his. “And I did all I could to validate the lie. I smiled and held your arm and paraded around like a gold digger waving my ring at anyone who would look. What more can I do?”
“You can try.”
I spin around, crossing my arms to mirror his position, happy there is half a room separating us. “I don’t understand.”
“You would if you would trust the words I speak and stop hearing them the way you want to.”
My head tugs back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I tell you I want you, and you say I want your name. I tell you she’s not mine, and you see her as nothing more. I tell you I want this marriage to be real, and you put on a show for others but act like this when you’re here.”
“You do want my name. It’s why you signed that contract with all those perks under your demands. She is yours, your fake sister, or your real ex, it doesn’t matter. She is yours because I’m sure as hell not the reason she’s here. And you are the one who said to make people believe us and this fucked-up game we’ve found ourselves in. I did that! What the fuck else do you want from me?”
He throws himself off the desk, flinging his arms out with a frustrated look. “See. You don’t hear what I say. That is a you problem that needs fixing.”
“I am well aware of the many flaws I have, thanks. I’ll add, ‘stop thinking like yourself’ to my list.”
“I had no idea you were this infuriating.” He glares.
“And I had no idea you were already married when you agreed to marry me.”
“Are you ever going to stop pointing that out? I’m already tired of hearing it.”
A mocking laugh leaves me, and I shake my head. “Sorry. I’ll be sure to stop saying it long enough for you to fuck. Off!”
“Stop being such a child.”
“Why? You seem to like your women that way.”
He raises a brow, stepping so close I have to put my arms down so my elbows will stop brushing against him with each breath. “There is nothing childish about the way I want you, Little Bride.”
My brows snap together, gaze bouncing between his eyes. The look on his face switches in a second, heat stirring in his hazel eyes, and my treacherous body responds in kind, warming from the inside out.
His lips part, his tongue sliding along the inside of his bottom one.
My chest expands.
His eyes fly up to mine.
I swallow.
He shuffles closer.
“How did you know Philip wanted to marry me?” I rush out in a panic.
It does exactly what I want. In a single blink, gone is the hint of hunger that slid into his gaze, now exchanged with nothing short of fury.
“How did you find out about that?” He grips my arms. “Did he tell you this tonight? What did you say to him?”
He fires off his questions in rapid succession, not taking a breath in between, and a sense of satisfaction settles over me at the crazed look in his eyes.
Even more so when his anger doubles at my silence. Good.
I spent the night pissed off. He can handle a couple minutes of it.
“Tell me! What did you say? Did you tell him you’d have said yes? That you would have picked him if you knew?”
I press my lips tighter and a literal growl rips from his throat.
“You did, didn’t you?” he seethes. “You—” He looks down and freezes. With each silent beat between us, his body begins to shake. “Boston…”
My name leaves him terrifyingly slow. It’s low and lethal, a threat, but I’m well-versed in threats, so he’s going to have to try a little harder than that if he wants me to visibly cower.
In what feels like slow motion, his eyes lift to mine. “Why the fuck aren’t you wearing your ring?”
I look down at my bare finger and back up at him.
To be honest, I forgot I took it off, but he doesn’t know that, so I tuck my hand behind myself as if I was caught red-handed. Or, well, bare-handed, considering.