Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
He nods. “I don’t want the Delacorte name to be synonymous with corruption and manipulation. When my grandfather first built this company, the media industry wasn’t anything like the machine it’s become now. He’d roll over in his grave if he saw what his little news corporation has become.”
“Your father doesn’t care?”
“He’s part of the problem,” Slade says. “He views it as it’s his money and his company, so he should be able to further his personal agenda and political affiliations. We’ve had a lot of, uh, heated conversations over the years. For Mom’s sake, we finally agreed to disagree. We don’t discuss politics anymore.”
“Does he know your intentions once you take over?”
“He does.”
“And he’s okay with it?” I ask.
Slade sniffs. “Deep down he knows I’m doing the right thing. He just doesn’t have the energy or the motivation to do it himself.”
His muscles tense and his breath grows slightly shallow, like this is a subject matter he doesn’t enjoy discussing.
“What?” He wrinkles his nose when he realizes I’ve been staring at him a little too long.
“Who even are you, Slade Delacorte?” I ask, my words drawn out and colored with disbelief.
Reaching over, he drags my lounge chair closer to his before tossing his book in the sand and pulling me into his lap.
“I’m your husband,” he says, a mischievous glint in his coffee-brown irises, “that’s who.”
Last night I went to bed alone, bitter, hopeless, disenchanted.
This morning I woke up, fought with my husband, lost my virginity, and now I’m straddling him on the beach, tracing my fingers along his rippled eight-pack abs while he looks like he’s thinking of making a meal out of me right here, right now.
“This is all happening so fast,” I tell him.
“I’m just as shocked as you are.”
“Good. I’m glad it’s not just me. I just don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves, you know? Emotions were running high … and then we … and now we’re … I just worry—”
Leaning forward, he silences me with a kiss.
“Campbell Wakemont wasn’t a worrier,” he says. “Campbell Delacorte shouldn’t be one either.”
My mouth tugs up at one side. After the priest pronounced us husband and wife at the wedding, I hadn’t thought much about my new name. In fact, I haven’t even begun the process of having it officially changed. But the way it sounds on his lips sends a thrill down my middle that I wasn’t anticipating.
“You hungry?” he asks.
“Famished.” After Slade took my virginity this morning, he took me a second time—in the shower. And after that, we went for a third round outside on the veranda, in broad daylight. The lower half of our bodies were wrapped in a blanket as he bent me over the railing and took me from behind. I never knew it was possible to have that many orgasms in such a short amount of time, but I’m being proven wrong about all sorts of things today.
We head back to the house, where Slade gives Fiona the night off and orders us a lavish feast from his favorite Greek restaurant downtown.
“You want to watch a movie?” I ask him later. “I know it’s almost your bedtime and all, but I’m not ready for this day to be over just yet.”
“Sure. Why don’t you head to the family room and find something you like. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Back? Are you going somewhere?”
“Give me thirty minutes.”
Thirty-eight minutes pass before the man returns. The rustling of plastic bags and the shuffling of footsteps grows louder as he heads my way. On the screen, I’ve cued up some historical drama that looks like the kind of thing he’d enjoy based on the biography he was reading today.
“What’s all that?” I ask when he strolls in with an armful of goods.
“I stopped at the AMC and picked up some popcorn. I had them pop a fresh batch, so that’s why it took so long.” He places the tub on the coffee table. “And then I ran into the gas station to get some candy. Wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything.”
He empties the bag next to the bucket of popcorn, forming a mountain of gummy bears, Snickers bars, Caramello bites, Twizzlers, and Raisinettes.
“I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you.” I swipe the Twizzlers. “You clearly know the way to my heart.”
Wearing a proud smirk, he settles in next to me and slips his arm around my shoulders.
Peering up at him, I drink him in for the millionth time today. “Who’d have thought?”
“Who’d have thought,” he echoes back.
33
Slade
“Knock, knock, you busy?”
I glance up from my desk the following afternoon and find Oliver in my doorway.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “You never come to the office.”
He dips his hands into the pockets of his designer jeans, shrugging. “I was in the area. Thought I’d see if you had lunch plans.”