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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Who was this guy?

“This is not effective immediately. It will take months to finalize everything,” he began to clarify, probably because he could see the shock I was feeling. “But I do want to settle down. If not in this house, then…wherever you are.”

I looked down at my fingers braiding themselves together, feeling suddenly very foolish. Neil was trying to clear a path to our future. It was something I’d never expected anyone to do for me, with me. I’d sort-of expected to look out for myself. Maybe it was because of the example I’d been raised with; my mother never missed an opportunity to point out how much her self-reliance provided independence. I was grateful to her for the lesson, but now, for the first time, I was beginning to see where my thinking needed to change, if I were going to enter into a legally binding domestic partnership.

“And you know,” Neil continued, forcing a laugh. “I think I’ll make a very good house husband.”

If he was making a joke because he was nervous, he didn’t have to. “I think you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”

When I looked up, he appeared genuinely startled by my praise.

“I really mean that,” I continued. “You’re willing to give up this huge part of your life for me. You’re willing to change your plans for the future, just to include me.”

He turned and came back to me, taking my hands in his and gently prying my twisted fingers apart. “And you haven’t?”

Okay, he had me there.

He went on. “You passed on a job you worked hard to earn, just to be with me. After I fired you, no less. For the sake of our relationship, you moved to a different country. You spent a year with me, when I was vomiting and crying and feeling sorry for myself. What sacrifices have I made for you? Why shouldn’t I make one now?”

My first instinct was to point out all the things he’d done for me: romantic trips, designer clothing, houses all over the world. But those things weren’t really a sacrifice. He’d already owned the houses, and I could spend a small fortune on material objects every day without making a dent in his considerable wealth. We were standing in an eighty-three-million-dollar house, for fuck’s sake.

As for sacrifices… Neil hadn’t made many for us. If he wanted to do this now, so that we would have more time together without it being shaved from my aspirations, then what was I supposed to do? Argue with him?

“You know…” I nodded. “You’re right.”

“My god.” He lifted my hands to his lips, passion and longing in eyes as he gazed at me. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

I slapped his shoulder. “Jerk.”

His arm slipped around my waist, pulling me up tight. “What do you think of the house?”

“Well, we haven’t seen all of it yet,” I reminded him. “But I’m impressed.”

“Could you see us living here?” he asked.

“I…” I sputtered in disbelief. “I could see us communicating by walkie-talkie, trying to locate each other. This is a lot of house.”

“All I ask is that you keep an open mind.” He kissed my hand for real this time, then released me. “Let’s get back to Tom before he thinks we’re fucking up here.”

The rest of the house was as unbelievable as what we’d seen already. Tom pointed out every luxurious detail and assured us that the buyer would be very lucky because of this or that item the owner was willing to part with. The more insistent the agent was that we love the house, the more resistant Neil came to showing any sign of approval, until he downshifted into a kind of emotional neutral. I watched the interplay between the two of them in rapt fascination. A sense of wonder and joy I hadn’t felt since childhood welled up inside me.

This was exactly like House Hunters.

I’d heard Tom’s tone before, the self-conscious projection of confidence that the potential buyer would find the property amazing. Neil trying to downplay the fact that he was already writing the check in his head, though it was a totally obvious ploy. Which meant I got to step into the role of the spouse who expressed disappointment and dissatisfaction at everything.

It was like some dark and terrifying part of my soul had finally been unleashed. “I don’t like wallpaper,” I said in the fourth bathroom we viewed. In the kitchen, I lamented, “Oh…granite countertops are out now, though.” I expressed concerns about light pollution from the patio area and infinity pool. I wondered if it would be too far a walk for me from the garage to the bedroom, or if the bathrooms had enough natural light. I think for a minute I actually turned into the weird neighbor lady from the Hermés disaster.


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