Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
My thoughts ran back to New York. What did I have to lose by doing this? Sadly, nothing. There was literally nothing waiting for me at my apartment other than a few condiments and a jar of cashew butter. No family. No boyfriend. No Josh. Just a whole lot of loneliness. And even Scott the Grinch was better company than a jar of cashew butter.
I could do this. My resolve had only hardened throughout the day. This new grumpy, outdoorsy version of Scott was better than the degenerate, constantly intoxicated playboy he’d once been. How or why that change had happened didn’t concern me. As long as the change was mostly permanent––and I had good reason to believe it was––I was willing to give this arrangement a chance.
“Am I willing to marry you for the opportunity to become CEO of Blackstone?” I held his steady midnight blue gaze rendered even more intense in the darkened cab of the pickup as I spoke. He needed to see that I meant business. That I was willing to see this arrangement through to the end. “Yes.”
After a heavy pause, Scott’s eyes returned to gazing out the windshield. “It gets below zero in winter sometimes.”
“I’ll buy a North Face jacket.”
“For weeks.”
“I’ll buy snow pants.”
His jaw pulsed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. It was clear he was doing this under duress. I knew Frank was holding his inheritance over him, in which case he could’ve simply grown a pair and refused to be bought. But he hadn’t. So here we were.
“You could get stuck here. Weather’s unpredictable.”
“I’ll video conference.”
“On the property, I mean. Sometimes I can’t get into town for days. We get snowstorms well into April.”
“We’ll stock up on frozen vegetables.”
Scott drummed his thumbs impatiently on the steering wheel. “Have it your way.” He looked downright despondent, and for the first time since I’d agreed to this plan, I felt guilty.
The Ford’s engine sputtered on.
“What about holidays?” I jumped in. He seemed determined to leave and the details hadn’t been discussed. “We can’t spend holidays apart. I’ll be spending two weeks here and two in New York for now, but you’ll have to make an effort too. Otherwise the board will catch on.”
I didn’t know why I mentioned holidays in particular. I hadn’t celebrated a holiday since I’d moved out of my grandparents’ house at seventeen and even their holidays hadn’t been a celebration, just another excuse to atone for sins I hadn’t committed.
“Holidays?” He seemed genuinely confused by the question. Not for long though. Less than a second later it cleared to make room for an entirely different sentiment, a less neutral one. Resentment. “This is straight-up blackmail––” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m willing to spend as little time as possible with you to make this farce appear legit and not a second more. Let ’em think we’ve had a rocky start. With my reputation, it shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”
On the inside, each word made me recoil while on the outside there was barely a ripple on the surface, the flush on my face and neck thankfully hidden by the shadows in the cab of the pickup.
“Look, Scott…if you really can’t handle it––”
“I can handle it,” he shot back acidly.
I’d given him an out and he seemed even more incensed by it. No good deed…
“I’ll be in Manhattan for New Year’s,” I started after another uncomfortable pause. New Year’s? The hell was I thinking. My mouth had gotten ahead of me and backtracking was going to be tricky. “I usually go by your parents’ place for cocktails before going to my friend’s house for dinner.” That wasn’t entirely true, but he needn’t know how truly lacking my life was.
Scott put the truck in drive and let it idle. “You can have Manhattan. Tell my parents I said hello.”
After giving him a quick nod in understanding, I slid out of the pickup and watched him drive away. There was a bitterness to him I didn’t quite understand. He’d changed and not entirely for the better.
A minute later I was striding barefoot across the lobby of the hotel. My ruined sneakers in one hand, the other dialing my cell. Passing a trashcan, I dropped them in and continued to the elevators.
“Miller?” I whisper-hissed into my cell.
“The one and only,” my snarky assistant chirped without missing a beat. Miller was insolent to the nth degree. He was also the best assistant I’d ever had, and that was saying a lot since I had gone through one every three months until Miller Smith applied for the job five years ago. He was also the closest thing to a friend I had. Neither of us had ever come out and said it, but both of us knew that half the time we spent together was personal rather than work-related.