Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
The hostess hands us menus and then excuses herself, and I watch as Brielle focuses on the menu, trying to ignore my presence while Daniil stands in the corner, glaring daggers my way.
When the waiter comes over, she orders a whiskey sour, but I step in, refusing to let her numb herself. Especially with what I have planned for after dinner.
“No alcohol,” I tell her, earning a death glare.
“Excuse me?” She scoffs.
“No alcohol,” I repeat, refusing to speak her business in front of an audience. “We’ll take sparkling water and the grilled oysters with furikake butter.”
The waiter nods and rushes away.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Brielle hisses. “You do not own me, and I will not let you—”
“Actually, technically, I do own you.” I cock my head to the side. “Well, I will once we sign the marriage certificate.” I shrug. “But one has nothing to do with the other.” I lean in and meet her eyes. “You use alcohol to numb yourself, and you’re not going to do that anymore. Life is hard, and it’s time to start dealing with it.”
“You know nothing about my life,” she grinds out.
“I know you require a drink just to fuck a man …”
“Since I won’t be having sex with you tonight—or anytime soon for that matter—it’s a moot point,” she sasses.
Her words are spoken just as the waiter returns with our drinks, but if he heard, he does a good job of pretending he didn’t. But that doesn’t stop Brielle from blushing in embarrassment.
“It’s okay.” I shoot her a wink. “Your pussy is worth waiting for.”
She gasps, her eyes darting between the waiter and me, and I laugh. The woman is so prim and proper in public. Thank God she’s nothing like that in the bedroom.
Then maybe you wouldn’t be so intent on forcing her to marry you …
I order the steak and lobster, and Brielle orders a salad and scallops. When the waiter walks away, she glances at the water, and I can’t help but look at her. I’ve been thinking about her all week, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered calling off the marriage a dozen times. But then I’d see her—at her brother’s office, working out at the gym, eating lunch with her friend at the country club—and it’d renew my need to make her mine.
“Brielle?”
We both glance up and find a beautiful older woman standing there with a gentleman by her side.
“Mom, I didn’t know you were home.” Brielle stands and gives her mom a hug.
“We got in this afternoon. Decided to come home sooner since Matteo thinks Dani might go into labor earlier than her due date,” her mom explains. “The house hasn’t been stocked, so I dragged Walter out.” She laughs, her blue eyes lighting up with mirth, and her husband chuckles. “Are you going to introduce us?” she asks, glancing at me curiously, which tells me that Brielle hasn’t told her mom about our arrangement.
“I’m Kane,” I say, standing and shaking her hand. “Kane Morgan.”
I shake Walter’s hand, and he nods.
“Walter Freedman, and this is my wife, Larissa.”
“W.F. Asset Management,” I note. “I have an appointment with your firm on Monday.”
“Ah, yes,” he says. “I thought I recognized the name. What has you relocating to Harbor Point?”
“A business opportunity I couldn’t pass up,” I tell him, glancing at Brielle with a small, knowing grin. “My financial adviser decided to retire, and since I plan to place roots in Harbor Point, I figured it was time to find a new adviser.”
Brielle glares my way, and her mom must notice because her brows furrow in confusion and probably a little bit of concern. But before Larissa can comment, the waiter comes over with our oysters.
“Brielle,” her mom says, “let’s do brunch soon.” She gives her daughter a kiss on each cheek, then glances at me. “Kane, it was nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” I tell her.
Once they excuse themselves, I look at Brielle with a raised brow.
“What?” she hisses, plucking an oyster off the platter. “I wasn’t about to tell my mother over the phone that I was being forced to get married.” Her eyes dart around the area, like she’s making sure nobody can hear her. “And I was hoping you’d die before she returned and there’d be nothing to tell her.”
I chuckle as she pries the oyster shell open and forks the meat like she didn’t just wish me dead. She dips the meat into the butter and then brings it up to her plump lips, parting them and slowly sliding it into her mouth. My gaze is stuck on her red lips and the way she gracefully chews and swallows.
“What?” she repeats when she notices me staring.
“You’re a contradiction.” I take a sip of my water, wishing it were something stronger. Being around Brielle is fucking with my head.