Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
I try to keep all emotions from showing on my face. I’m here to play a role. That’s it. I’m here to make Dane’s life easier. He doesn’t want a real wife, and he probably doesn’t want to deal with things like this. He doesn’t want a wife getting jealous and throwing a fit. Heck, even his own lawyer said he’d hire women for him to take care of his sexual needs.
“What are you talking about, Sherrie?” Dane looks irritated. His eyes fly over to Beth. “Mom?”
“I…ah…” She looks to me and her face softens a little. “I thought you might need a date.”
“We talked this morning. You were well aware of what’s happening in my life.”
My eyes bounce back and forth between the two of them, then to Sherrie. Her pout is gone and she’s glaring at me. I’ve never felt so awkward than in this moment.
“Eat, sweetheart,” Dane says, leaning over toward me.
“Dane. You can’t be serious. You’re really going to marry this girl?” Sherrie says with disdain
“Sherrie, maybe—” Beth attempts to placate her, but Dane cuts across her.
His fist hits the table hard, making everyone jump.
I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. I look down at my plate and continue eating. So does everyone else. I kind of wish a hole would swallow me up at the moment. I have no idea how to act or what to do, so I just eat.
The first bite hits my mouth and I moan. My eyes fall closed as the rich flavor of the meat hits my taste buds. It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Or maybe it’s just been too long since I had a good meal.
“I want everyone to leave,” Dane says sharply.
My eyes fly open and I see he’s staring at me. He looks angry.
“Dane—” Sherrie starts to protest.
“No, Dane is right. We should go.” Beth stands. She puts her hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Sherrie huffs and stands up.
“I’ll call you later, Dane,” Sherrie says and stomps out of the room.
“Sorry,” Beth mouths before turning to follow Sherrie out.
“I’m sorry, too,” I whisper.
I’m still not sure what just happened, but I know it wasn’t good and I don’t know how much of it was my fault.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Please eat, Willow, and try not to moan while you do it.”
I look up from my plate and feel my cheeks heat. I lick my lips because suddenly they feel dry. He must notice because he pushes the wine toward me.
“I’m not old enough,” I admit.
“How old are you, Willow?” he grits out, panic on his face.
“Twenty.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he breathes.
I take the glass, and then he picks up his own, shooting it back in one gulp before setting it down on the table with a thunk.
“My mother can be pushy, but she means well. You’ll get used to it.” He look at me then fills up his wine glass again. “I’ll have a talk with her.”
“It’s fine, really. I don’t mean to cause trouble. I know I’m here to make things easier for you. Don’t talk to her on my account. I mean, if you still want me to stay.”
My eyes meet his. He’s doing that thing again where he studies me. I feel like everyone seems to be doing that around here. I wonder what they are trying to see.
Dane leans back in his chair. “I think you’re going to be a lot of trouble.” He shakes his head. That knot in my stomach grows a little more. The hunger I was feeling fades away.
“Eat,” he orders as if reading my mind.
“I’m really not that hungry.”
“I want you to eat,” he tells me. His words are soft now. I don’t know how he does that. His moods change so easily. “Sweetheart.” The term of endearment does me in. I pick up my fork and start eating again.
“This is really wonderful,” I tell him. “I love to cook, but I’m not sure I could beat this. Where did you learn to cook?” I try to make small talk because he’s not eating. He’s just watching me.
“I can’t even make toast,” he admits. “It’s the plus side to owning a hotel and living on the top floor. I can call for food whenever and it gets here in minutes.”
“Oh.”
“Feel free to order anything anytime you want. Just pick up the phone and hit zero.”
“Thanks.” I’m not sure I’ll actually do it. It would feel kind of odd to order food to his home. I wonder how he gets billed for it.
“Or make a list of groceries you need and you can take over the kitchen if you like,” he adds.
I glance over at the kitchen. It’s huge. I can’t believe he doesn’t use it. Anyone who likes to cook would die over a kitchen like that. It was made to be used.