Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Like my attraction to domineering, controlling, Neanderthalish, manhandling bodyguards.
What did that say about me?
That I liked it when he spanked me like an errant child.
I never knew an orgasm could feel the way it did, and I had no idea that men put rings in their cocks. I had so many questions, but the one that kept popping up in my head over and over and over was…
What would it feel like inside me?
I pushed those thoughts from my head and focused on the man who was by my side.
He and my father were talking about expanding Manwarring Inc. into London.
Romney had several ideas that even I knew weren’t financially sound, but my father rather strangely let him keep talking as if he were making sense. Usually, my father would have humiliated the man for stupidly opening his mouth and wasting his time by now. I’d literally seen him make other men cry at events like this.
And yet with Romney, he was feeding the man’s ego by appearing to consider his ludicrous, misguided financial ideas.
Olivia and Luc shot each other dubious looks. They knew far more about business than I did, but it seemed like my instinct was correct.
It was obvious why the Zeiglers were destitute.
Grand ideas and schemes were not the same as financial literacy.
Dinner dragged on, course after course of nothing but the men speaking and the women sitting in silence.
Amelia and Olivia occasionally whispered to each other about how boring and awfully tiresome this dinner was.
Amelia tried drawing me in, but my soon-to-be mother-in-law stared daggers at me every time I dared to open my mouth.
Crap. Was this a glimpse into my future?
Would I be expected to nod and agree as pure nonsense dribbled out of my husband’s mouth?
Surely not. Surely he would appreciate a wife who was a true partner, who had intelligent opinions of her own. Right?
It didn’t really matter if I was involved in the conversation or not. My focus was on trying not to look at Reid, because I knew he was still staring at me. I could feel the weight of his gaze. The weight of his judgement.
He openly stared while I wasn’t brave enough to even look in his direction.
Not with the way that woman kept giving me disparaging glances.
I knew immediately she disapproved of me, and if I dared to look at Reid, she would instantly know absolutely everything and would have no problems calling this marriage off immediately.
Somewhere between the second and third course, there was a natural lull in the conversation, and Luc took the opportunity to brag about Amelia’s art school to our guests.
He was always doing that.
I was pretty sure it was to show off his wife and her accomplishments. He always beamed with pride when she talked about her beloved art school.
What I wouldn’t give for someone to be that proud of me.
“It’s actually going wonderfully. In fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” She turned to face me. “We’re having a charity event in the next few weeks. The kids are doing some exciting things with digital media. Specifically in projecting color and matching it to music and using fans for wind and some other really cool things. They want to run an experiment for the next showcase.”
“Oh?” I put my fork down. I hadn’t eaten much and had mostly just moved my food around on the plate. “What kind of experiment?”
I was genuinely interested and happy for the opportunity to join the conversation for the first time all night.
“Well, they’re playing around with all of the senses. And for music initially, they were just going to download something and play it. But one of the kids saw you perform at the charity event a few days ago.”
My gaze flashed to Reid.
The corner of his mouth lifted as he raised an eyebrow in a knowing, arrogant smirk.
Damn the man.
Amelia continued, breaking my impossibly erotic thoughts about Reid spreading my legs and settling between them as he lowered the zipper to his pants. “They wondered if you would be willing to help them. They said something about the song you ended with. She wasn’t sure what the song was, but she said it sounded like oxblood and anger, then teal and sorrow. Whatever that means,” she laughed.
I knew exactly what the student meant. Amelia would too when she heard the piece.
“It sounded like teal?” The baroness laughed. “What a preposterous, imbecilic thing to say. Who describes music with colors?”
The coppery tang of blood pricked my tastebuds as I literally bit my tongue to keep myself from firing back that she was the imbecile to stifle a child’s creative description with her rigid conceptions.
Clearing my throat, I choose instead to pretend I hadn’t heard the mocking indignation as I asked, “What exactly would I have to do?”