Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“He’s good. Plan on seeing him this visit?”
“Yes, actually. And Mother?”
“She’s good too.” Casey frowns. “Mostly good. I think she still hates me.”
“Don’t worry, Mother doesn’t like anyone. Except for me.”
Casey rolls her eyes. “Seriously, come spend time with Edwin. He misses you.”
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“And whose fault is that? He’s two and he’s super friendly. He’ll love you.”
I think back to the little boy on Casey’s private Instagram, the little grinning kid with a mop of dark hair and Costa eyes. “I can’t wait to spend time with him.”
“Good.” She punches my shoulder and sips her drink. “So how much shit are you in this time? Is it really bad? Adler’s pissed. I don’t think I’ve seen him this mad in a while.”
“It’s pretty bad.”
“Is your assistant mad at you for whatever you did?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Isabel. And I don’t know.” Which is true—I can’t tell if she’s angry at me for being a lecherous prick with a questionable taste or if she’s mad that I researched her personal life, or if she’s livid that I’m trying to convince her to marry me.
All of the above, most likely.
“Well, I’m sure you deserve it.” Casey sighs and gets up. “Hey, Rox, do me a favor and tell Big Dan I’m working in an hour, okay?”
“Whatever you say.” Roxie gives her a little wave.
“Still dealing cards?” I make a face. “Shocking, honestly.”
“Only at the high roller tables where I’m safely hidden away.” Casey struggles to her feet. “Good luck with whatever you did wrong, Con. You’re not such a bad guy, you know, despite what you may think.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Come see Edwin tomorrow morning at ten up in the apartment.”
“I’ll be there.”
She waves and walks off, leaving me alone at the bar.
I don’t want to marry Isabel.
The thought of being her husband—or trying to be decent enough to be her partner—even if fake—it makes my brain feel like it’s overheating.
I’m an unpleasant person and I don’t blame her for not wanting anything to do with me.
The problem is, I need her.
I truly need her in a way I’ve never needed someone before.
Not only because she’s one of the few people in my life that I trust, but also because I know she’d be perfect for this.
She’s clever, effective, efficient, and single-minded. When there’s a task to be completed or a problem to be solved, she attacks it until the job gets done.
I respect her for it.
Even if I don’t necessarily like her.
But Isabel’s exactly the kind of pain in the ass that would make a perfect wife.
In this situation, anyway.
I’m not the marrying type. There’s no way a woman would ever want to settle down with a man like me, not after all the shit things I’ve done over the years.
No, I’m far too stained and ruined for that.
Fake marriage though? Something short-term and only to get me out of another awful situation? That’s exactly the sort of wife someone like me ends up with.
It doesn’t matter. Isabel says she won’t do it, and that’s the end of that discussion. If I’m lucky, we’ll find someone else to step in and take her role.
And if I’m not, then I’ll finally get what I deserve.
Chapter 8
Isabel
I spend an hour decompressing. I take a long, hot bath, filling the jacuzzi tub nearly to the brim, and dump in all the products I can find. It steams up the mirrors, fogs the glass shower, and makes moisture drip from the light fixtures.
I close my eyes, thinking about Conlan.
Not that I want to imagine him while taking a bath, but he invades my thoughts whenever I’m alone.
I see his strong hand on my leg. I see his lips parted, his handsome face, those muscular arms and shoulders. I can smell him too—crisp, musky, a bit of lemon and pine. I can almost taste him. No, I want to taste him, in my fantasy at least, I want him to slip into this water with me, touch my body, kiss me the way I know he’s kissed countless women before. He can pull my hair, spank my ass, let his thick, hard cock sink between my legs—
Get it together.
This isn’t the time to have sex daydreams about my freaking boss.
Not when he propositioned me with marriage.
As I get out of the bath, rinse off, and change into fresh clothes, I keep thinking about what it might be like if I were his wife.
He’d cheat on me. That’s obvious. But would it matter if we were fake? It might, at least to me. I have some pride at least. I couldn’t live with myself if I let Conlan do whatever he wanted while he was my husband.
My father raised me better than that. Dad would always say, Isabel, do whatever you want in this life, just don’t do it because other people expect you to. He’d probably shake his head at all the degrading things I’ve done to cover up for Conlan, but still, I’ve tried to make his spirit proud of me. I work hard, I’m good at what I do, even if what I do isn’t exactly glamorous.