Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I don’t believe you.”
“Parker said you had one heck of an ego. What I’m offering you is a chance to get revenge against my brother, just not at my expense. I know why you and Parker hate each other—”
“You don’t,” I assure her.
She shoots me a dubious stare. “You’re telling me his book was untrue, despite all his corroborating stories?”
“No. It’s mostly true. He stretched things for effect, but…more or less, it’s accurate.”
“See? You’re exactly what he described, which is why I would never sleep with you.”
“And what’s that?”
“An egotistical manwhore.”
I shrug. “I’m good at the things I enjoy, princess—making money and making women come. Why deny the truth?”
Her jaw drops. “Wow, you’re even more egotistical than I thought.”
“If that’s how you want to see me…”
The waiter saves the conversation when he sets our drinks in front of us. “Would you like to order dinner now?”
Normally, I would because I hate wasting time, but talking to Corinne is the only way I’ll find out if she’s telling the truth or if she’s here to fuck me up on Parker’s behalf. And sometimes, booze is almost as good as truth serum.
“We’d like another few minutes, please.” I smile at the waiter, silently promising him a fat tip if he’ll scram.
“Very good.” He nods and walks away.
Corinne takes a long sip of her cocktail. Her little groan of pleasure is sexy as fuck. The thought of undressing her and making her eke out those satisfied sounds gets a rise from more than my interest. But my cynical heart cautions me to stay on my toes. Even if she’s not here to do Parker’s bidding, she isn’t with me because she’s interested in me. She’s only interested in what I can do for her.
A far too fucking familiar situation.
I skim the rim of my scotch with my finger. “You do realize there are two sides to every story?”
“You just admitted that everything my brother said was true.”
“I said mostly. Did he ever tell you why I did it?”
That question surprises her. “Other than your incredibly flawed character? He thinks you’re jealous of him.”
I scoff. “And you believe him?”
“He is my brother.”
“Who’s never pissed you off? Who’s never been wrong? Who’s never bent the truth for his own purposes?”
She doesn’t respond to that. “If you truly had a reason to make his last year of college a living hell, why has no one ever come forward with that story? Why haven’t you ever explained? Or even defended yourself?”
“Come on… You’re naive if you believe anyone is going to listen to me over the multimillion-dollar budgets of both the publisher and the movie studio. If I said anything, it would only reinforce that I’m Xayden Coast and give more spotlight for Parker’s trash. Besides, the only other person who could corroborate my story is gone.”
She downs another sip of her drink and stares at me. Her expression isn’t hard to read. She doesn’t want to know because she doesn’t trust me. And she doesn’t want to care about me as anything beyond the guy who can help her get her hands on her fortune. “Okay, you had a reason. It doesn’t involve me. I’m just looking for financial help.”
“Or a fake fiancé.”
She frowns. “I was kidding about that.”
Maybe she was. I’ll table that…for now. “So you’re not curious at all about what made me hate your brother?”
Corinne hesitates, her dark hair spilling over her bare shoulders. “It’s not why I’m here.”
But she looks intrigued. I’ll give her time, lure her in. She’ll want the truth. She won’t be able to help herself. “Okay. Tell me your business plans and what kind of funding you’re looking for.”
Her smile is immediate. She thinks she’s won. It’s cute. In fact, she’s adorably ballsy and seemingly naive at once. She’s definitely not as jaded as she wants me to believe.
“I need five million dollars to expand, preferably in the next sixty days.”
“For machinery?”
She shakes her head, and I can’t help but notice the way the last of the day’s rays make her face glow. How beautiful would she look with her head on my pillow, her shiny dark tresses spread across my white sheets, and her cheeks pink while I’m fucking her to orgasm?
“No. I hand-bead every piece. I always will. But I’ve outgrown my apartment, which I rent. I found a nearby house for sale that’s perfect. Three bedrooms and a bonus room. I’d use one for myself, and I can take the wall down between the other two to create one big workspace, like a craft and office area combined. The bonus room I can use for storage. I offer a lot of different styles, plus I do custom pieces. That means I keep a lot of raw materials on hand and they have to be organized.”
She’s clearly thought through things that would make her production easier so she can expand to fit the current slew of orders. Still, I can’t help but play devil’s advocate.