Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I grimace and shake my head. “This is going too far. Way too far.”
He laughs lowly. “Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying our little game.”
“Mostly I’m just confused.” I glance at him. “And you’re a little too full of yourself for my taste.”
“And you are my taste.”
I feel a shiver and refuse to let him see the flush of excitement. All this man has to do is say he finds me attractive and I’m suddenly ready to throw myself at him? I can’t be that pathetic. I refuse to be. He’s obviously lying, and this is clearly another attempt by some monstrous asshole to bully me and hurt me and embarrass me, and I don’t understand why he’s doing it now of all times.
“Whatever you’re playing, I’m not interested, okay? It was nice catching up with you, Ford, but—”
He moves closer and puts a hand on my leg.
“I hear you’re looking for a husband. I happen to be looking for a wife. I think we can help each other.”
I sit back, stunned into silence, and stare at him as he removes his hand from my thigh and brushes his palm against his face like he’s feeling the residual aura of my leg.
He’s not smiling. His scarred lip is puckered up at the end, but it’s a false smirk. I touch my throat and grip my clutch tighter and think of him brushing against my hip back at the Oak Club. Did he know about the arranged marriage back then? Is he doing all this to mock me for it?
Or is this really what he says it is—I need a husband and he’s interested in filling the role?
Why the hell would Ford Arc want to marry me of all people?
That question pulls me back to earth and I narrow my eyes at him.
“I’m sorry, but this is too weird. You’re an Arc and I barely even know you. Don’t you hate my cousin?”
“I don’t hate Sara Lynn. I feel bad for her.”
I snort in disbelief. Grandfather’s always telling me not to do that and I know it’s a bad habit, but I can’t help myself. When I laugh or when I’m shocked, it’s just a little noise that slips out. “You feel bad for her? Why? She’s got everything.”
“Her husband’s a pathetic second-rate day trader that drinks too much. She’s got so many nannies she rarely ever sees her kids. I bet Sara Lynn spends half her time sucking down expensive wines, gossiping with her other bored housewife friends, pining after thirst trap influencer boys on TikTok, and wishing her husband would drop dead of a heart attack just so she could start over. No, Kat, that’s not the ideal life. It’s a sad little existence in a sad little box.”
“That’s insane,” I say but some of that rings true, and it feels good to hear someone else say them out loud. Sara Lynn’s husband does drink too much sometimes, and she does have a lot of nannies, and she is always chatting with her friends about stupid and inane gossip, and what if the perfection is all an act?
“Believe it or not but not everything you see online is real. But this right here? This is real. I really do need a wife.”
“Why are you doing this right now? Seriously Ford. We don’t know each other. My family hates you. Why would I ever, ever, ever marry you, even as an arrangement?”
“Because,” he says, leaning closer, “you want to.”
Before I can argue, before I can tell him that he’s lost his damn mind, and this whole dirty text thing is a really terrible way to flirt, and this whole thing is a totally crazy mistake, he leans forward and kisses me.
I’m so taken aback that I press my lips tighter against his and let his hands grip my legs.
I’m so surprised that I open my mouth.
So shocked, honestly, totally shocked, which is why I release the tiniest little whimper as the taste of warm whiskey and mint graces my tongue.
I’m appalled as my own tongue enters his mouth and I kiss him back with a groan.
Aghast, truly aghast, as the kiss sends jolts of electrified desire into my skin and down my spine, and this is crazy, this is strange and random and crazy. Yet his tongue and lips taste like sugar and wintergreen, and there’s a stunning buzz between my legs, growing in my core, and it takes me a wild second to realize that I’m actually getting wet.
Which is what finally snaps me back into reality.
I shove him away and break off the kiss. I don’t know if we were just making out for twenty minutes or two seconds, but it feels like his mouth was on mine for an eternity. The second it’s gone, I want it again, right now, gnawing on my tongue.