Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“You’re hard to find.” Jayson’s voice is low, almost sultry. “I had to resort to calling my own wife.”
“You’ve got me now. What can I do for you, Mr. Costa?”
“Hm, I like when you call me that.”
I shiver, looking away from the screens. “I have other things I can call you. Most aren’t very pleasant.”
“We’ll work on the pet names another time then. I was calling to see if you wanted to have dinner with me.”
My eyebrows raise. “Really?”
“Call it a date if you like.”
“I definitely wouldn’t like that.”
“Then call it whatever you want. We’re stuck together and we might as well try to get along. I’ll give you a good meal, good wine, and you can ignore me the whole time if that’s what you want.”
“Sounds like a dream.”
“Good. Seven outside of Chef’s Paradise. You’ll see signs for it.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“See you then.” He hangs up.
I shove my phone into my back pocket.
Dinner with my husband? It feels too normal. What happened to ignoring each other for the next year?
What does that man really want?
Chapter 19
Jayson
I take Fallon to the best restaurant in the casino. It’s a high-end place, obscenely expensive, a modern take on Italian cuisine decorated to look like a mash-up of downtown Venice mixed with an illegal warehouse rave. We’re seated at the best table in the place and served an expensive bottle of wine.
“Should we toast?” I ask, holding up my glass.
“I’m not sure there’s much to toast to.”
“How about to you sleeping in my bed tonight?”
Her lips press together. She’s wearing a silk blouse and black slacks, her hair down and brushed over a shoulder. I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful in my life before, all of her practically glowing in the low restaurant lighting. I could crawl across the table and eat her like a dog at a bowl, devouring her, lapping her up. I can hardly keep my eyes off her, which is an actual problem.
I keep forgetting that I despise her.
“How about we toast to you keeping your hands to yourself for an entire night?” she suggests instead.
“Alright, here’s to self-control, and my complete lack of it.” I hold up my glass and drink.
She snorts and sips. “That’s good,” she admits, sounding almost grudging about it. “How much is this glass, anyway?”
“Don’t worry about it. Does it help to know that most of the profits end up back in our pockets?”
“You mean your pockets.”
“Ours, actually.” I slip a heavy black credit card across the table. “I understand that you’re my fake wife and you dislike me as much as I dislike you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take care of you while we’re together.”
“How charming.” She doesn’t take it.
“I’m serious. I get it, we hate each other. My family killed your father, and your family murdered my best friend. But while you’re mine, I will take care of you, whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t like it.” But she finally slides the card over and puts it into her purse. “But I can’t escape it.”
“No. You really can’t.”
“Might as well enjoy myself a little then. Live the high life.”
“Your family wasn’t exactly poor.”
“No, we weren’t, but nothing like this.” She brushes a hand down her blouse’s sleeve. I picture running my fingers along the same route, then down lower, along her flanks to her thighs, listening to the sound of her breath coming faster and faster. “Comfortable by Dublin standards. Better than most, worse than a lot.”
“You had a big family to take care of.”
“Yes, yes, we did. That’s my brother’s problem now.”
“He’s doing a good job, if that helps at all.” I’m not sure why I care what she’s feeling, but I find myself wanting to reassure her all the same. “I’ve been in constant contact with my European office, and I’m told your brother’s been nothing but competent.”
“Yes, that’s how I’d also describe my brother.” She looks away as the waitress returns with the first course. I had the chef prepare something special—and we’ve started with what looks like roasted scallops with sweetcorn, tarragon, and melted onions. All plated to perfection.
“Are the two of you close?”
“I’d say yes, but he’s out in Dublin and I’m here married to you.”
“What a win for you then.”
She laughs again and picks at the food. After one bite though, her eyes widen a touch, and I can tell she likes it but doesn’t want to say so. I let her have as much as she wants, content to drink wine and watch her.
“My father always had us at each other’s throats,” she says after nearly clearing our shared appetizer. “He said healthy competition made us stronger. I was something of a tomboy back then.”
“I can see it. You’ve still got some of that fire.”
“Some of it? I guess I’ve been soft on you then.”