Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
“I can make that your nickname, princess.” He reaches up to touch my face.
I catch his hand. “And you like being the bastard?”
His gaze lowers to my mouth and lifts. “I am who I am, Harper.”
“Well, I’m not her,” I say. “I’m not on a throne. I’m not above you because I inherited money I don’t even have, or because I’m my father’s daughter, or whatever the case.”
“I’m here. Stop obsessing over a name.”
“How can I not obsess over that name? I was in that hotel room with you when you were calling me that name. I felt the anger in you when you used it.”
“Not at you, Harper.”
“Now who’s lying to who? I was there. Let me repeat myself. I felt your anger. You hated me for being a part of this family.”
“And yet you fucked me?”
“Right. I did.” My throat constricts, hurt and anger colliding, and yet my voice is remarkably calm. “I must have wanted something. I get it. That’s what you think of me.” I turn away from him to face forward.
Eric doesn’t move away. He stays right there, leaning over me, watching me. “Harper,” he says, his voice low, rough. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my skin tingling with the need for him to touch me. How can I need a man to touch me? How can I need this man, who hates me, to touch me?
“It does matter,” he says. “You matter or I wouldn’t be here.”
I want to believe him. I want to touch him. I want him to touch me. I want him to kiss me and I know he will if I turn to him. I know I’m setting myself up for heartache with this man. I know he could use me, but I’m so damn drawn to him.
“Look at me, Harper,” he orders softly.
“I can’t,” I whisper, emotion welling in my throat. “I really can’t right now.”
It’s at that moment Jim exits Starbucks, his long legs eating up the parking lot in a near run as he charges toward his car. “That tall, dark-haired man is Jim,” I say, reaching for my seatbelt. “He’s the union guy. He’s leaving.” I let my belt fall away. “Why is he leaving?” I open my door and climb outside, the cold contrasting all the heat Eric and I were just generating and I shiver as I call out, “Jim!”
His gaze lifts my direction and I swear it’s like he’s seen a ghost. He doesn’t stop, quickening his pace toward his car, a Mercedes that says he’s paid well for his negotiation skills he isn’t using right now. I chase after him, certain now that somehow this meeting was Isaac setting me up for a fall. “Jim, wait,” I say, catching him at his door. “I thought we were meeting?”
“I have a situation,” he says, scrubbing his jaw. “I can’t meet with you tonight.”
Eric steps to my side. “Hi, Jim,” he greets, and it feels familiar, like they know each other.
“Eric,” he bites out. “I just heard you were back in town.”
“I noticed,” Eric says dryly.
Jim’s lips thin and he looks at me. “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow.” He opens his door.
“I thought we were talking through the hot points?” I press.
“I told you,” he says, pausing with his hand on his door, “I can’t meet.”
He can’t. What is going on? “What about in the morning?” I press, confused by this change of attitude.
“I’ll see you at the meeting,” he replies, cutting his eyes and disappearing inside his car. His engine revs and he’s backing up in sixty seconds flat.
I rotate toward Eric, holding out my hands in utter frustration. “What was that?”
“The Bennett Corporation operates one of the largest law firms in the world. We’ve had a few thousand dealings with the union.”
I shake my head in instant rejection. “No. No, he was afraid of you. He knew you. He feared you.”
“He fears the beast that is the Bennett name and I’m a large part of Grayson Bennett’s brand.”
“There’s more to what just happened,” I say, a cold gust of wind biting through me, while Eric seems immune to anything as real as the weather. He’s colder than I thought. He’s harder. Why didn’t I know this? He’s a self-made billionaire and he didn’t get there by being a bleeding heart and gentle soul. “You said you want more from me,” I say. “You demanded more of me, and yet all you’re giving me is accusations and a blow-off answer to something that directly affects me.” A few people walk out of the coffee shop and I lower my voice. “You want more. Well, I want more, too. I demand more.” I start walking to the car, my steps thundering on the pavement, my heart all but bursting from my chest. I need in the car. I need away from him before I lose my shit, and I’m so close. With shaky hands, I open the door. And then he’s there.