Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
I put steel in my tone when I speak again. “What the hell is going on, Drew, and give me a straight answer this time.”
Drew’s father or what-the fuck-ever his name is, Lucian, Lucious, something sinister sounding for sure, speaks instead. “Why, my dear, we are welcoming you to our family, as my son says.”
My gaze catches on the hospital bed across the room. Drew’s mom is still unconscious. At least one of us is. I wouldn’t put it past this asshole to force me into this thing even if I were knocked out.
I let out a long breath before I push off the couch to stand, and then I glower down at Drew who's somehow in the seconds I’ve been sitting there had slouched into the couch, looking every bit the villain. “Take me home, now, and we’ll forget this ever happened. I won’t even tell Sebastian, so you won’t have to worry about him coming in guns blazing.”
Not that I’ve seen Sebastian with a gun on him. I spotted a couple in his desk drawer once, but I’d never seen him actually hold one. Even when he had murder in his eyes. My statement is more of a means to scare them, which isn’t really working.
Drew stands, buttons his black tuxedo jacket, and smooths his hair back away from his face. “Relax. Let me grab the contact. You can read it and know you’ll be well taken care of.”
He’s joking, right? “You call this charade well taken care of?” I shake my head. “After everything, you’re really going to stand here and force me to marry you?”
His eyes go a little wide as he studies me, and I have no idea if he knows that I’m only trying to sell this. Whatever the fuck this is.
In the car the other night, he asked me to trust him, and I realized I already did. I already do. So this situation must be some kind of plan. I just wish he’d trusted me enough to reveal it in the first place instead of drugging me.
At the reminder of the drugs, my stomach roils. I force out a long breath and place a hand against my stomach. Yep. Going to need a minute. Maybe if I puke on Drew’s dad, then he’ll let me walk out of here.
Something tells me it’s not me he wants but Sebastian’s money.
When Drew crosses the room to the other man lurking near the door, he opens a small envelope and passes over a thick folded stack of paper. I barely spare the paper a glance because at that moment I spot the outline of something at Drew’s back. The glint of metal is barely noticeable, but I see it. A gun. He’s got a gun?
My breath stalls, my lungs starving for oxygen. What the hell does he want me to do here? Fight, play along with the ceremony? I assume he won’t let things get far enough that we are actually hitched for life. There’s no way he would want that. Right?
As I’m thinking about it, Drew returns to my side and holds out the papers. “Take a look at it, read it, front to back, and we'll sign it before the actual ceremony.”
I’m not sure what he sees in my face, but his mouth turns down, the slick grin slides away, and he studies me. “Bel? Take it.”
I snatch it out of his hand, glaring now. I might trust him, but that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed as hell. The memory of the jab in the neck returns slowly, and I remember calling him out the same way. Asshole. As soon as we’re done here, I’m kicking his ass.
I snap the papers folded in thirds open and skim the first page. It seems to be a standard marriage contract except all the stipulations about what is mine is Drew’s and what is Drew’s is his family’s. Ridiculous. I’m not signing this bullshit.
He kneels in front of me, his tuxedo pants stretching across his muscular thighs obscenely. I can’t help but stare, and his smirk this time is real. “Bel?”
I lean in, and he tugs me forward, pressing a kiss to my mouth. It’s so quick it’s over before I can comprehend it’s happening and those wicked lips of his skim from my own across my jaw, stopping at the shell of my ear.
“Stall for time,” he whispers.
When he pulls away, I glare and then turn the contract page as if I’m reading very, very slowly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s a marriage contract. There’s no need to review every page. Now get your ass up so we can do this,” Drew’s dad grouses from across the room.
I’m about to give this man a run for his money.
I slap the contract at Drew’s chest hard enough to send him back on his ass on the fancy carpet. There’s a flash of a grin, then his eyes harden. “Is this you telling me you want to play? Because I can fuck you right here on the carpert for the world to see. Or you can be a good girl, get up, sign the contract, and marry me.”