Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
I took a steadying breath, reminding myself to take my emotions out of this very-much-business conversation we were about to have. Try being the optimum word—it wasn’t like he was succeeding at it either, not that I could truly blame him…but he didn’t need to know that.
“Is there something you’d like to discuss without yelling at me, Cormac? Because if not, I have plenty of calls and emails I need to return.”
His hands fisted on the arms of the chair, the muscles bunching underneath his smooth skin. God, he looked good. Smelled good. If only I could get him to not look at me like I was his enemy.
“Bristol,” he said in a much calmer tone, and the way he said my name? It made little sparks of heat flare beneath my skin. “My lawyer and my agent worked on the contract all night only to tell me this morning that—”
“I’m the only one who can let you out of it without a financial hassle?”
He gave me one sharp nod.
“That’s true,” I said, keeping my face even of emotion. “My lawyers have been working for my family for decades. They know how to ensure I’m protected—”
“You’re protected?” he cut me off. “Bristol, you have it so ironclad you practically own me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d become so dramatic over the years.”
He narrowed his gaze at me, but I didn’t lose his stare no matter how badly my instincts told me to look away. “What’s it going to take to get out of this?” he asked, his tone cold, calm.
I swallowed around the knot in my throat, begging my stomach to chill the fuck out. The nerves were tangling and twisting so much I may as well have drunk several bottles of champagne last night. But I hadn’t had a drop, and still I felt close to puking all over my shiny new desk.
“Why do you want out of this so badly?” I asked, fidgeting with a pen. “Do you feel you aren’t up to challenge?”
“I’m up for any challenge,” he said, cocking a brow at me. “What I’m not up for is having my life uprooted again. I love my team.”
The words hit like knives to the chest. “I have no intention of disrupting your hockey career, Cormac,” I said as steady as I could. “I would think offering you two million in endorsements would prove that I want nothing more than to have a mutually beneficial business arrangement. You become the face of our brand, which I know will increase our sales, and we sponsor you. Win-win.”
“Let me out of this,” he said, totally ignoring my offer. “I’ve worked hard the past four years to stay clear of anything attached to your family.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, drawing his massive frame closer to the desk. “You may not have had to rebuild like I have, but it took everything from me to put myself back together after being ripped from my last team. I will not do that again.”
Tears built in the back of my throat—angry, raw tears that I wouldn’t dare let fall. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, Cormac. And I’m sorry about what happened, truly, I am. I’ll never let anything like that ever happen again.”
He leaned back in his seat, something churning in those eyes—something that said he read a bit too much into the pain in mine.
I quickly blinked and straightened my spine.
“I live in New York,” I finally said when all he’d done was stare at me with his intense gaze that did funny things to my heart. “I’m merely visiting Charleston while I get the line up and running for the new headquarters. I have no intention of ever living here, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
“I can’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t spend a year under you.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, my mind whirling with all the imagery I most certainly shouldn’t be picturing—him beneath me, my thighs on either side of his hips, all that muscle stretched out before me to run my fingers over.
I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat as I cursed silently at myself. It was my own damn fault—I’d practically romanticized what had happened between us, using the memory to fill those cold lonely places I’d never been able to before. No wonder I was a coiled spring of need when he entered the room—he’d had the starring role in my fantasies for years now.
But putting all that aside, there was an undeniable part of me that needed to do this. If he would just give me a chance, he’d see that I wanted nothing from him. Nothing but his forgiveness.
“What about six months?” I offered. “We cut the contract life in half. Six months. You wear some suites. Do some promo. Still make your initial endorsement offer.”