Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“I was terrified. My feelings were so fucking big.”
“Are you frightened now, Fin?”
I temper my smile—that was a little too Dirty Harry for a woman of her stature. “That depends,” I say, on the opposite side of the desk now, my gaze flicking behind her. “Can you lift that TV from the wall?”
But then she pulls out my chair, dropping into it quite suddenly. Her hands pressed to the sides of her head, her beautiful hair comes alive between her spread fingers.
“She made people come after me. Told them lies—then made them lie!” Her head comes up. “Why would she do that? She almost ruined me. I lost work, respect, my clients. Money! I was forced back to the place it took me so long to climb from. And for what? What did I ever do to her?”
“Attract the interest of a man who turned her down. A man she probably saw as her meal ticket to more publicity, more opportunities. And then, you married him.”
“So, she wanted to be me, basically.” Her answer—her thoughts—instantly take the wind from her angry sails. “It’s what you said, that I wanted your notoriety. That I was using your body.”
“I was hurt, that’s all. When the plane landed in London, things changed. I worried all I would ever be to you was a crutch. A name. Not someone who loves you.”
“Love,” she repeats. Hopefully?
“Yeah. I love you. I loved you the day we wed. But you’ve been on my mind and my heart for longer than that. I’m sorry. So sorry.” For what I’ve done and for what’s to come.
“But when the plane landed, how did the press know about us? How did they know to be there? I know how they got the photos on the island, but how did they know we’d married or even who I was before we landed?”
“Because I called ahead. I called them, Mila. I gave them the scoop.”
“You . . .”
“Bastard?”
“You deceitful, conniving, fraudulent fuckboy!” she yells, jumping up again.
I just couldn’t see any other way, though Matt would die laughing if he knew his part in this.
On the flight back from the resort, I’d googled Bridgerton, which he’d mentioned during our phone call. I didn’t have time or the bandwidth to watch the show, but I was curious. And grasping at straws. So I downloaded the Kindle app on my phone, along with a couple of books in the series. Romance books.
Come to think of it, maybe Matt would die of embarrassment that he’d inadvertently outed himself as a closet romance reader. Though it kind of makes sense.
As Mila slept, I found myself absorbed. And I’d learned that, according to the romantic novel dictate, what’s needed at the point of a romantic fuckup is a romantic gesture like no other. Failing that, some dastardly underhanded dealing.
And I’ve got both bases covered.
“If I am, I’m your fuckboy. Yours alone. For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me. You were right to be wary—I am almost forty, and I’ve never lived with a woman. Never committed myself. But I want to. I want to commit myself to you.”
“You don’t even know the meaning of the word!”
“I’ve thought about you constantly since we met. In fact, from that night, I didn’t fuck another woman.”
“Are you expecting a medal? A bloody prize?”
“I’m trying to tell you I didn’t want anyone else but you. And that I was too chickenshit to do anything about it. I gave your card to Evie when I really should’ve found you myself.”
“Why should I trust you after what you’ve done?”
“Just listen to me for a minute, please. You said that love means betrayal and lies to me. Before you, yeah. It did. When I was just a kid in college, I fell in love. Or I thought I did, but my family—they weren’t on board. I thought we’d get married, but my grandfather offered her money to leave the state. She took it, and I was devastated, not just about her leaving, but that the man who raised me did that to me. I guess I just made sure never to put my heart in that position again. Because maybe I just wasn’t worth it.”
She begins to move again, rounding the desk. “It sounds as though you’re saying you only love me because I don’t want your money? That’s not trust.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I love you in spite of the fact you won’t fucking take it. I love you despite the fact you’re being pigheaded and proud.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do here. You can’t distract me—you called those tabloid . . . Little Bird . . . fuckers!”
“I did.” I back away as she advances, but it’s just for show. I’m going nowhere. Ever, if I can help it. “I did the wrong thing for the right reason. Twice.”