Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Nick sighs in frustration and rakes his hand down his face, scraping his palm roughly over his stubble. My heart pounds with a mix of terror and agony.
“You have five seconds to start talking,” I whisper, backing away even further. “Or I’m leaving and never coming back.”
“Goddamnit, Riley,” he huffs, dropping the file back onto the low table.
He turns his back on me, and he reaches for a decanter of whiskey on the little table tucked against the wall by his desk.
Is this really it? Is he giving up on me, on us, that easily? Before I have a chance to spiral into that conclusion properly, he starts talking.
“I’m not lying to you,” he says as he pours himself a hefty glass of whiskey. “I never lied to you. Not outright. I kept things from you, yes, but I didn’t lie, and I’m not about to start now. I have nothing to do with those pictures. I don’t know who does, either.”
He turns to face me again, overfull whiskey glass in hand. I search his face for any sign of dishonesty. It’s almost more terrifying to find nothing but truth shining in his eyes.
That means someone really is threatening us with those photos.
“Then what the fuck is that?” I ask testily, nodding my chin toward the file.
He rakes a hand through his dark hair, tousling it until it falls across his forehead.
“I told you I’ve wanted you for a long time, Riley,” he says, sipping at his whiskey like he doesn’t want to admit what he’s about to say. “I just didn’t tell you how long. I decided you were going to be mine the day you started your internship. You were all nervous and sweet, tripping over yourself to do anything anyone asked. I wanted to wreck you. I wanted you to belong to me. And then I saw your work, and the more you impressed me, the more I needed you. So, yeah, I had my brother do a little research on you. So what?”
My brows arch so far up my forehead they damn near meet my hairline. “A little research? You have my whole life story written down. You have my mom’s fucking address, Nick!”
“I wanted to know you!” he shouts back, slamming his glass down on the glossy surface of his desk, uncaring of the way the whiskey sloshes out over his fingers. “I’m your CEO, Riley! It wasn’t as easy as just asking you out for lunch. I have a reputation to worry about and my family’s reputation to worry about. If I asked you out when you were an intern, everyone would assume you got the job because we were fucking. I was trying to be careful!”
He was only worried about himself.
Anger coils in my stomach as nausea begins to take over. “Of course… can’t risk your precious fucking reputation.” I scoff, shaking my head. It doesn't matter if there is truth to what he says; every word makes me feel like nothing but a complication. “You know… I thought you cared about me, that you liked me, but this was all just some fucked up game to you, wasn’t it?”
“I’m not playing you!” He practically explodes, turning to pace furiously as he talks. “I did all of this,” he gestures to the file, then between the two of us, “because I care. Because I wanted to make you mine… and you are mine.”
Laughter erupts from my throat at his words. “You’re fucking insane. Next you’re gonna tell me that you only hurt me because you care, right?”
“Jesus Christ, Riley, no,” he says, looking genuinely aghast and disgusted at the suggestion. “I would never—fuck, why would I take things slow if I didn’t care about you? If I just wanted to hurt or fuck you? Why would I fire the intern you were competing with to make sure you got the job if I didn’t want you around?”
The brief guilt that flares in my chest at his horrified reaction to even the thought of hurting me like that fizzles out in an instant as he continues talking.
“You’re the reason I got the job over Alex?” I ask, my voice shaking with rage. “How fucking dare you? I worked my ass off for this job. I decided where I wanted to work back when I was still in school, Nick! Did I even earn it? Or did you just rob someone else of the opportunity to advance their career so you could get your dick wet?”
Nick makes a frustrated, exasperated sound deep in the back of his throat, and his hands flash out toward me. I flinch back without thinking, but all he does is grab me by my shoulders.
His grip isn’t harsh, but it is unyielding, and he stares at me flatly as I reach up to shove at his hands, attempting ineffectively to twist free from his grip.