Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Make me a fucking list, Gerry. Of every single woman you stuck your dick into. If I can’t be thorough, I can’t be helpful. No use in paying me a small fortune for sitting around and babysitting your two fully grown sons.”
“I’m also paying you to keep away from my daughter,” my father reminded him. I winced, pressing my ear harder against the door.
“Yeah.” Sam chuckled. “Some challenge that is. Make the list.” He rapped his knuckles against the dining table.
I knew the conversation was over, so I scurried out of the sunroom as quietly as possible, hurrying toward the kitchen to Mother to fill her in on their conversation.
I crashed headfirst into a wall.
No, not a wall. Worse. Sam’s granite chest.
“Ow.” I scowled, stumbling back as I rubbed at my forehead.
Turning around to make a beeline in the other direction and avoid Sam, I got snatched right back to his side. Sam, with his killer instincts, caught me by the hem of my blue scrubs and pulled me into an alcove between the dining room and the sunroom, his smoky, minty breath colliding with my face. Hot and fresh and intoxicatingly sexy.
“If it isn’t my favorite tight hole. Been eavesdropping, Nix?”
His casual sexism would have fazed me had I not known it was a front. I’d seen Sam handling his sister and adoptive mother and knew that for all his crass words, he was capable of adoring women.
There was little point in denying the allegation, especially since we got out of the adjoining rooms at the same time. I tilted my nose up and squeezed my shoulder blades together, like she had taught me, her French accent reminding me inwardly, Better die on your feet than live on your knees. Show courage, mon cheri!
“It’s my house, Brennan. I can do whatever I want, including, but not limited to, spending time in my sunroom.”
“You are many things, Aisling, including the daughter of two of the most pathetic creatures I’ve ever encountered and a champagne socialist, but you are no idiot. So don’t act like one. What were you doing in there?”
If he wanted me to bring up the fact he stood me up, tell him how much it hurt me, he had another thing coming.
I was in love, not a doormat. There was still a slight distinction between the two.
“Admiring the plants.” I smiled sweetly.
“Bullshit.”
“Prove it.”
He scowled at me. We both knew he couldn’t.
“Well, then. Nice talk, Brennan. Are you done now?” I brushed his touch off, sneering at him like my mother would at the help.
“Not quite,” he answered, mimicking my upper-class drawl, the one my mother had taught me to use whenever we were in well-bred company. “I’m glad I caught you here. I have an update about our situation.”
“Our situation?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Our fucking arrangement,” he spat out, exposing his white fangs with an unpleasant chilling smile. “It’s canceled. I’m not interested anymore. You were a great sport. Five out of five stars. Would highly recommend. Unfortunately, I have some pressing issues right now and no time for complicated pussy.”
The crassness of his words almost robbed me of my breath. How dare he? How dare he try to hurt and belittle me every step of the way, when I hadn’t done anything remotely unfair to him the entire decade we’d known each other?
All I did was seek his company, be nice to him, and give him myself on his terms. And each time, he found new and creative ways to show me that he wasn’t interested, and the one time that he was interested, he deemed it a lapse in judgment.
I smiled a chilly, unfriendly smile that made my bones go cold.
“We had plans together? Sorry, I don’t recall. Either way, thanks for giving me an update about a date I had no plan attending. Now, don’t you have to go do some work for my father?” I tapped my chin. Behind his hard gaze, I could tell he was mildly confused by the brand-new backbone I’d decided to exhibit.
“Chop chop now!” I clapped my hands, my tone a cheery singsong. “As you pointed out earlier, my father pays you a small fortune, and not for your intellectual skills—which, by the way, I find lacking. Let us know when you have more information for us about the leaker.” I turned around and walked briskly, leaving him in the foyer without as much as a second glance.
I went to the kitchen, scooped my mother up like she was no more than a child, and took her to her room, where a hot bath had been waiting for her. I washed her hair, telling her all the things she wanted to hear.
That she was pretty, and loved, and powerful. That my father would crawl back with jewelry, vintage bags, and vacations. That if she wanted to, she could push him around with some legal papers that would scare the bejesus out of him.