The Bride (The Boss #3) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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“Far too young,” Rose agreed. “I’ve spent over thirty years without Leif. The loneliest thirty years of my life.”

“And I’m going to spend a lot of lonely years, too.” There was no alternative for me. Either I would be with Neil for the rest of his life, or I wouldn’t, and the latter was incomprehensible. “I was faced with that during his cancer, and I can face it later. He’s worth it.”

I think it was the right answer for her. Frankly, it didn’t matter if it was or not. It was the right answer for me.

She considered for a moment, pinning me with the weight of her decision. It was clear that she would make up her mind about me right now.

Finally, she said, “Well, you’re a good girl. And you love my little bird. I think he may be mad, marrying someone so young, but you may be mad as well.”

Mutual insanity was not a ringing endorsement, but I thought perhaps I could win her over with some humor after all. “So…can I call you mom?”

Her expression of disapproval never changed as she reached down, released her brake, and put her chair into motion.

It seemed like once the dinner was finished and the dancing started, everyone was much more at ease than they had been that morning, Emma included. Neil, definitely, although the alcohol he’d consumed might have had more to do with his stellar mood than with some sudden acceptance of his daughter’s marriage and husband.

“Woman,” he greeted me, affecting a terrible cowboy accent. “Might I have the pleasure of this dance?”

I pretended to consider my options. “Only if you stop talking like that. Otherwise, I’ll be embarrassed to be seen with you.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed in his normal voice, and extended his hand. I took it as I rose from my chair and let him lead me out to the floor. The couples around us looked to be having fun, which I knew was important to Emma and Michael. Every couple was smiling as they danced to the band performing Sam Cooke’s “You Send Me.”

“Have I mentioned that you look amazing tonight?” he asked, resting his hand on my waist.

“You’ve been distracted by more important things.” But the compliment was still appreciated. The dress Emma had helped me pick really did look “knock out sexy” as she’d described it in the store. “How are you holding up?”

“Tolerably well, I would say. The real test will be when they leave on their honeymoon tonight.”

“Where are they going?” I asked. “Emma hasn’t mentioned anything about it.”

“Ah. That is because Emma doesn’t know anything about it.” He frowned down at me. “You realize we can’t both lead.”

“I’m not a good dancer.” I shrugged. “What do you mean she doesn’t know anything about it?”

“Michael is surprising her.”

That was really romantic. That arrangement would drive me crazy, but it was still romantic. “I can’t believe she went along with that.”

“She is a much different person now than when they first started dating. Three years ago, she would never have agreed to it.”

“Well, I’m proud of you.” I beamed up at him. “You didn’t object when they said that ‘any objections’ part.”

“Oh, it took herculean restraint,” he assured me with an expression of self-importance that melted into a smile. He leaned down and whispered, “You know, my favorite dance with you was that first night in your apartment.”

All of my blood rushed to my skin, and I was sure that above the plunging neckline of my dress, my skin was bright pink. That night had been incredible. Neil had come home from England and called me the moment he’d gotten back to the city. High on pills, he’d come to my house, where I’d been catastrophically drunk, and we’d danced to Norah Jones in my bedroom. It had been both extremely fucked up and unbearably romantic.

I didn’t have a response to that.

After another chorus, I asked, “Hey, you’re a good dancer. Can you spin me?”

“I’m sure I could, but I’m not entirely sure you can handle being spun,” he quipped, and I slapped him on the shoulder. He relented, gripping my hand and rolling my body into motion down the length of his arm. When I yo-yoed back, I stepped on his foot, but he was still nice enough to bend me in a shallow dip before righting me again.

“Thank you,” I said with a breathless laugh. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Well, I live to serve.”

I rose on my tiptoes and whispered, “That’s my line, Sir,” close to his ear. His fingers dug into my waist in a second of possessive lust. I really liked Neil on red wine.

“By the way,” he said, fitting his arm around me tighter. “What you said last night, about the flower arrangements?”

I thought about it a second, and when I realized what he was referring to, I giggled. “Oh the thing about having them at our wedding?”


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