Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I nod once, looking at the table. “What kind of rules?”
“First of all, you will be loyal to me. I don’t expect you to love me, and you don’t even have to like me, but you will not fuck around behind my back. I’m many things, and extremely possessive is one of them. While you’re mine, you will be mine, mon minou, is that clear?”
I look up sharply, eyes narrowing. This arrogant fuck. I glare at him and have to steady myself before replying. “And does that fidelity also extend to you?”
“Absolutely.” He nods once, as if that’s obvious.
“You’re going to be loyal to me while we’re married? No mistresses? None of that French-style open marriage bullshit?”
“No. If you’re mine, then I will be yours. I prefer to keep things simple that way.”
“I honestly find that hard to believe. You’re really not going to cheat on me?”
“So long as you don’t cheat on me.” He leans closer, his expression darkening into something intense and stormy. “And trust me, mon minou, whoever you fuck behind my back will wish you hadn’t touched him.”
I have to laugh. The guy’s threatening my nonexistent affair partner, and we haven’t even gotten married yet. Maybe he really is as possessive as he says.
“Alright, so no cheating. What else?”
“You will come live in my house. You will act as my wife at all public functions. In private, if you want to maintain separate lives, we can find a way to make that work. I need you for at least two years, after which point we can discuss if we wish to continue the marriage. If you want out, I will grant you a divorce, and we will move on with our lives. Does that work?”
I open my mouth but can’t find words. I assumed this was going to be a forever thing, but now he’s saying there’s an out, a potential time limit on our arrangement.
What happens if we do break up? Where would I go? Back home to my abusive fucking father? I’ll be older, with no skills, no college education, no real prospects. I’d be left with nothing.
“Money,” I blurt out and instantly wish I could learn how to keep my mouth shut. His lips curl into a smirk. “If we break up, I need money.”
“We’ll put something in writing that works for us both.”
“Fine. Okay.” My heart’s racing and I feel hot. I sip my wine but that doesn’t help. Why does it bother me so much, knowing I might be free in two years? If Julien really does pay me, I can start my own life. I’ll be able to do anything I want and never have to worry about anyone else ever again.
“Then it sounds like we have a deal, mon minou.” He glances down at my hand. “I see you didn’t wear your ring.”
“No, I didn’t.” I raise my finger up to the light. “Didn’t feel right.”
“From now on, you won’t take it off.”
“Where’s your ring then?”
He slips out of the booth and gives me a hard stare. “Get me one if you want me to wear it.”
“That’s all? We’re done here?”
“Unless you have something else you need to discuss.”
There are a million things. Like where I’ll sleep, how we’ll live, what life will be like with him on a daily basis, a million other small issues crowding through my mind. I’m going to be this man’s wife, and I barely know him at all.
“I guess not,” I say, feeling like a worthless moron. I hate this feeling; it’s like my father’s voice is echoing through my mind. You’re nothing. You’re nothing. You’re nothing.
Julien nods at me. “Then the next time I see you, we’ll make this official. I look forward to being your husband.”
“Yeah, you too,” I say, thrown off. He walks away and I watch him go, trying to find a way to make all this make sense in my head, but feeling like I’m losing control already, with no way to get my life back on track.
Chapter 8
Brianne
Ikeep thinking about that dinner. Even when my dad’s in a terrible mood the next day and is ordering me around all morning, I keep thinking about the way Julien kissed my cheeks, his laughter and his eyes drifting down to my chest, and that one single word, possessive.
It keeps ringing through my head.
That night, Kim picks me up and we head over to Bloody Strike. There’s a boxing match going on, but we post up at the bar and ignore the fight. The place is moderately crowded with Hayes Group members and the random associated civilians that enjoy coming in to watch a bunch of sweaty men illegally beat the shit out of each other. Bookies walk around, taking bets.
“I can’t believe you’re really going through with this,” Kim says, laughing as she tucks into her second glass of wine. I just got done telling her all about the dinner with Julien, and she seems genuinely shocked. “I mean, after the last time I saw him? I halfway expected you to castrate the poor idiot.”