Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“We can’t go back and change that. I did what I did to keep you safe.” Mostly, anyway.
“Oh, you’re my savior.” She rolls her eyes. “Asshole.”
“Don’t start insulting me.” I jab a finger at her. “You’re being stubborn. Can’t you just see that I’m doing this to help you?”
“You’re doing this to win your stupid client.” She jabs a finger right back. “Quit pretending like you’re all noble. And what about that kiss, huh? Was that to help me?”
I blink rapidly at her. “I was selling our story.”
“You enjoyed it. You were practically drooling for more.”
“You moaned in my mouth. You’re telling me I’m the one that enjoyed it?”
Her eyes widen. “I did not moan. How dare you say I moaned?”
“You moaned.” I stand inches from her, breathing hard. Fuck, she’s hot, looking back at me with that messy hair like she wants to kick me in the throat. She’s an absolute train wreck right now, but hell, all I can think about is kissing her again. Grabbing her messy bun, palming it hard, pulling her mouth against mine.
Making her moan for real this time.
We stand there, facing off for several tense seconds. My heart’s racing. My palms are sweating. I haven’t felt this alive, this angry, this frustrated in a very long time, if ever. For years, I’ve been drifting, throwing myself into work, ignoring everything else around me.
Now there’s Fiona, lighting up the fucking world.
Burning it all down too.
“Admit I didn’t moan,” she says quietly. Her voice is less angry now, more controlled. She takes visible, deep breaths, and I notice that her blouse’s top two buttons are undone, giving me just a glimpse of cleavage. Again. Fuck, did she do that on purpose? “Admit it, Gareth.”
“All right. You didn’t moan.”
“Thank you.”
“There might’ve been a whimper, and you definitely enjoyed it.”
“God, you’re such a prick.” She storms away to the opposite end of the room. “What are we going to do?”
“My offer stands. Be my wife. Help me win the Crowley contract.”
She pauses, but shakes her head. “No, absolutely not. Definitely not after finding out you went behind my back and filed the paperwork.”
I hold up a finger. “To save your ass.”
“To save your ass.” She clenches her jaw. “What about Liam?”
“I’ll put some clothes in the hotel room. We’ll say we’re staying there because our apartment burned down and we’re in the process of getting a new one.”
“Think he’ll talk to my landlord? Push at our story?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Hard to say. Depends on if he has other business in town or if he’s just here to follow up on us.” I tap at my forehead with a fingertip. “We can always pay the landlord to say we were living together in your apartment.”
“God, what a mess. Poor Eduardo, getting dragged into this.”
“Eduardo will be fine, he’s a fucking landlord. They’re all morally flexible. We’ll pay him well.”
“All right, I’ll talk to him. We’ll convince Liam that this marriage thing is real. I’ll do the bare freaking minimum to keep us both from getting murdered. Then we’re having a falling out and getting divorced.”
“Nobody will be surprised. Whirlwind marriages tend to fail more often than not.”
“I’ll expect alimony.”
“Good luck winning that in court.” I grin at her, some of my tension easing now that we have a plan.
If she plays along, this should be fine. We convince Liam, he goes back to Boston, and I accept that I’ll never get the Crowley job after all. Can’t exactly go for it now, not if my fake wife isn’t willing to play the game.
She hesitates before leaving. Her anger drains away. I can tell there’s something else she wants to ask, but I don’t push her. Instead, I go around the desk, sitting back down.
“My job,” she finally blurts out. “Where does this leave me?”
“That’s a little bit complicated. I have a policy. No dating my employees. Definitely no marrying them.”
“We’re not really married.”
I try not to smile. “Well, technically—”
“Gareth.” She closes her eyes, clearly holding back her emotions. “My apartment burned down. I have crushing student loans. My parents left for Paris for two weeks. My ex got engaged. My best friend’s fairytale Kentucky life is beginning to show some cracks. I feel like I’m on the edge of an abyss right now and I really have no idea what I’m going to do. So please don’t joke around.”
“Okay, I understand,” I say softly. “You’re still my legal assistant.”
She lets out a long breath. “Thank you.”
“Assuming you listen to me in the future.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She rubs her temple before glancing at me. “Thank you for not firing me.”
“You’re a good employee,” I say with a little shrug.
Which is true, but that’s not why I can’t bring myself to get rid of her.
It’s not even that she’s going through a crisis and needs help.