Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
He walks around the desk and drops into his seat. “Do you want to meet at the house and ride together or meet at the restaurant?”
“Fuck you, asshole. It’s game on, and if you think I’m going to take this lying down, you have another thing coming. I’m about to blow your man’s world apart!”
“I mean, I get where you’re coming from,” Paige says over video chat.
I’ve just spent the last hour ranting to her about Julian going behind my back, and once I was done, I asked for her honest opinion. But I have a feeling in about ten seconds, I’m going to regret doing so.
“But I also have to agree with him,” she says slowly, trying to soften the blow. “A luncheon is something you’d do here for the fifty-year-old men we deal with, but for a hip, young musician who owns clubs …” She shrugs. “I’m not saying it wasn’t risky, but I can see why he did it.”
Damn it, I know she’s right, but I hate that Julian went behind my back. He could’ve come to me and talked to me, explained where he was coming from …
“And you know damn well if he had come to you, you would’ve gotten defensive and shut him down,” Paige adds, as if she can hear my thoughts.
“Do you think my dad only agreed to the luncheon because of me?” I ask as the reality of the situation hits.
“What do you think?” Paige volleys, refusing to give me an out.
“I think if I wasn’t stuck on trying to convince my dad I’m all about family, I would’ve been on board with the club idea,” I admit.
“And what about your dad?” she pushes.
“I think between being in love and trying to get in my good graces, he wasn’t thinking clearly. The man who’s built Kingston to be one of the biggest liquor companies in the world would’ve done what needed to be done, not taken the safe route … and definitely not with a luncheon.”
I sigh, hating that Julian was right. “But that doesn’t change the fact that my fake fiancé went behind my back and then told me I’m not ‘man’ enough to hang with the men. I’m going to show him that fucking with a woman is way scarier than dealing with a man.”
“Oh Lord,” Paige says with a laugh. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” I say, “but once I figure it out, I’ll let you know after I do it.”
“After?” She quirks a brow.
“Yeah, after. So you can’t talk me out of it.”
“If you’re going to request my presence, it would help if I knew where you were.”
I glance behind me at the masculine voice and then take the shot, watching as the seven ball disappears into the pocket.
Ignoring Julian’s statement, I search the table for my next shot and then lean over and take it. The six ball goes in, and when I glance back again, Julian’s heated gaze is on my ass.
“I was looking for you, but when I checked in this room, I got distracted by the pool table.”
I scour the table for my next shot, and when I find it, I walk over and take it. The three ball goes in, and when I stand up and turn, ready to find my next shot, I’m met with Julian’s hard front pressing up against me. His hands land on either side of my body, caging me in, and his mouth is so close to mine that if I move forward an inch, our lips will meet.
“You play pool?” he asks.
“My freshman year of college, I dated a pool shark.”
He lifts me onto the edge of the table and takes the stick out of my hand, dropping it onto the felt.
He parts my thighs and stands between them.
This close, I can smell his spicy scent, and I hate the way it does shit to me.
“What’s up, Red? What did you need to talk about?”
I lick my lips, and his gaze homes in on my mouth for several seconds before he ascends to meet my eyes.
“You were right,” I say, cursing my traitorous body for the way it reacts to him. My voice is far too breathy, I can feel my nipples hardening under the material of the dress I put on for dinner, and if he were to touch the apex of my legs, he would find me wet.
Julian blinks several times and then says, “What?”
“I said, you were right.” I lift my chin, holding my head up high. “I’m not too proud to admit when someone else was right, and you were right. At Benson, I dealt with mostly older clients, and luncheons were the way to go. Knowing that my dad wants someone who’s more family oriented, I went with the safe route. But it wasn’t the right route.”