Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
If you didn’t mind that the stick was more likely to beat you to death than fuck you.
Other women might miss it, but there was a coldness in his eyes that his smile didn’t touch. She had a feeling those eyes never warmed up. Not to mention everything about this meeting was orchestrated to put him in a position of power for their exchange. He’d shown up first, made sure one of the most popular restaurants in the neighborhood was empty, and had waited until she had her guard down in the confusion to make his entrance.
If she was taking bets, she’d bet that he never went into any situation without first making sure he would be in control of every aspect of it.
Dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
She cleared her throat. “Dmitri Romanov, I presume.”
“You presume correctly.” He motioned at the empty restaurant behind him. “I thought our meal would proceed smoother if we didn’t have an audience.”
Either that, or he wanted as few witnesses as possible to take care of after he murdered her. She glanced back at the door again. Where the hell was Liam?
Dmitri caught her look. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else.”
Damn it, she was so flustered, she wasn’t bothering to mask her expressions. Carrigan took a careful breath and smiled. “No, this is fine. It’s just unexpected.” And strangely thoughtful, though she was still more inclined to look at it through the potentially violent lens than the romantic one.
“Shall we sit?” He motioned to a table set back from the windows, where no one from the street would have a clear view of them.
With a nod, she moved to the table and took a chair that put her back to the wall. Maybe this Dmitri wasn’t a threat to her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. She already knew he was. The problem was that people tended to present the best versions of themselves when they first met strangers. It was up to her to dig through the bullshit to the meat beneath, and she couldn’t do that until she got the conversation rolling. “So, Dmitri, tell me about yourself.”
He sank into the chair across from her with an effortless grace she envied. “First-date questions, Carrigan?”
Ignoring the heat of embarrassment rising up her neck, she lifted her chin. “Do you have a better idea? I’m on a compressed timeline, which I’m sure you’re aware of. I have to start somewhere.”
“Then why don’t we start with why I’m on this list of your father’s?” He looked completely relaxed, as long as she ignored the eyes. Those eyes watched her like she was a deer and he was a wolf, just waiting for her to twitch in the wrong direction before he pounced. “I run a very prominent empire in New York. You father wisely sees the value of allies outside Boston.”
New York.
Which most likely meant she’d be required to move down there, because he certainly wasn’t going to relocate up here. Her lungs turned to lead, and she gripped the edge of her chair as she fought lightheadedness. Somehow, even in the middle of all this, she’d never once considered that she might have to leave Boston. “I see.” There were days when she wanted to burn the city to the ground around her, but it was home.
A waitress appeared next to their table, giving Carrigan a much-needed breather, and set down two glasses of water. She poured them each a glass of red wine, and then left as silently as she’d come.
This Carrigan could focus on. “High-handed of you.” Why did every rich man in the world think that drinking wine was required? At least he’d ordered red instead of white—a tiny silver lining.
“I like to go into business meetings having the upper hand.” His smile was more shark than sheepish. “Forgive me, but I did a bit of research.”
If he’d done as much research as he claimed, he’d know she preferred dirty martinis to wine any day of the week. James had figured that out all on his own. Thinking about him right now is a mistake. Focus on the man across from you. She took a cautious sip of the wine and nearly melted into her seat. It was light and a little fruity and hands down the best wine she’d ever had. “This isn’t half-bad.” Since he seemed to want to cut to the chase, she might as well play. “You’ll be expecting me to move to your home and play the little wife in between popping out half a dozen children.”
“Setting aside the small talk. Good.” This time his smile was almost real, though it still didn’t reach his eyes. “To answer your question—I’m willing to negotiate. I have no interest in a little wife, as you so eloquently put it. Especially an unwilling one.”