Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
“Glad you asked.” Oliver lit his cigar and sucked hard. A plume of smoke crawled up from the amber tip. “It’s high time I remind you what happened last night. The incident that preceded you polishing off an entire bottle of brandy in hopes you’d die of alcohol poisoning after you returned from the Townsends’ premises.”
I slam-dunked the bottle into the trash. “Have your moment in the sun. Tell me how bad it looked from the outside.”
“It didn’t look bad.” Zach parked his laptop on the table in front of my bed. “Bizarre? Yes. Scandalous? As intended. But you came off as a good guy trying to win over a girl. At least in the videos plastered all over TikTok and YouTube, many of them viral. They call it the proposal of the century.”
Oliver whistled. “You have your own hashtag.”
I’d never created a scandal in my entire life, and I certainly did not relish being a part of one now. However, the ends justified the means. I’d done it. Stolen Madison Licht’s fiancée and made her mine. The little cretin always ended events with an underaged gold digger, who thought she could keep him for more than one night. Imagine my surprise when, two days ago, Oliver overheard him waxing poetic about his fiancée’s delectable body, perfect face, and luscious hair. For once in his miserable life, it appeared he hadn’t lied.
I rubbed my chin. “Was she at least as beautiful as I remember?”
“Exquisite. Chef’s kiss.” Oliver brought his fingers to his lips. “Also: hardly pubescent. Is she even legal, Rom?”
“Legal.” A teeth-shaped valley at the tip of my chin rippled across my fingertips. The manic little vixen had bitten me and left a mark. “Been in college for at least two years.”
Three or more, if she hadn’t exaggerated about failing her semesters. How one could fail in English Lit evaded me, but leave it to this hell-dragged phantom to manage it.
“Zach, when I tell you that woman was livid …” Oliver shook his head. Smoke poured from his nostrils like a demonic dragon. “She nearly stabbed him to death. I think the only thing that stopped her was the likelihood of embarrassing her family further.”
Thankfully, Dallas Townsend harbored a red line. Based on our fleeting introduction, it was her only one. I’d be hard-pressed to conjure a woman as colorful as her. She remained in constant sixth gear, ping-ponging from stealing food to running her mouth like it was a Boston Marathon contestant. Her mere face made me want to pop four Tylenols and wash them down with brandy. If I’d known her personality prior to acquiring her as my newest investment, I would’ve chosen to hear that pasty brute wax on about her for the rest of his pathetic life over marrying her myself.
Oliver slapped his knee, laughing. “She gave him hell.”
“I’m sure he’ll retaliate in kind once they tie the knot.” Zach typed away on his laptop, only half-invested in the conversation. “What happened after you got to her house?”
I propped against the headboard, massaging the foot my future wife had pierced a straight hole through with her heel. “Her father sent her to her room. Then we closed a nice sweetheart deal. I’m going to hemorrhage donation money into his non-profits for the next five years and introduce him to some people he wants to pitch businesses to.”
And for what? I could count on one hand the number of times I would see Dallas Townsend after the wedding ceremony—and have fingers left over.
“Well.” Oliver tugged his brown leather gloves up his fingers, tossing the butt of his cigar through the window. “As much as I enjoy reciting the night Romeo ruined his life, I have horses to see and women to corrupt.”
Zach popped a dark eyebrow. “Any woman who is dumb enough to end up under you has already been thoroughly tarnished.”
Oliver sighed. “It’s true.”
Zach’s nose scrunched. “Aren’t you bored?”
Whereas Oliver loved all women, Zach couldn’t find a single one that lived up to his unreasonable ideals. In fact, Mrs. Sun arranged weekly dates with ABC heiresses to shipping, copper mining, and software companies. His favorite pastime was shutting them down on absurd bases, such as too pretty, too smart, too rich, too charitable, and my personal favorite, too much like him.
“I’ll stop chasing tail when I die.” Oliver rose to his feet, slipping his wallet and phone into a sleek leather courier bag. He frowned. “Actually, even then, the worms aren’t safe from my libido. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make the most out of this shithole before we depart, and there’s no better way I can think of spending my time than not with you.”
With Oliver off to make the world a worse place, Zach and I stared each other down. On paper, we shared much in common. A single entity motivated us. Money. Zach had two multi-billion-dollar exits under his belt on self-developed apps. Meanwhile, I reigned over my father’s company as CFO, dabbling in hedge funds and high-risk investments for fun. Since graduating from MIT, I’d tripled Costa Industries’ revenue. We were reserved, calculated, pragmatic, and unmoved by societal expectations. Both our parents pressured us to marry. And they would go to extreme lengths to walk us down the aisle with the future mother of their grandchildren. But our similarities ended here.