Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Because Margot’s right, and we’re not.
We move in very different circles. Our lives couldn’t be more different.
And when this is over, he’ll want a woman who matches his brains and money and violent good looks.
I’m totally not her, even if a tiny part of me wishes I could be.
“Maybe he did it because he sees you as part of the family brand. I think he wanted to teach Ethan a lesson. Something about life he couldn’t teach in the office,” she says eventually. “I mean, our families have been close forever, so it kind of makes sense. A big public marriage forces Ethan to shape up and take things seriously, even if it’s all for show.”
“Could be,” I say.
“You know he’s wanted Ethan to step up for ages. When he decided to come back and dive into the family business, PopPop was thrilled.” Margot shrugs, bumping her shoulder against mine. “I think this is his way of making Ethan a man. One more test he couldn’t deliver while he was still alive.”
“Hmmm, yeah.”
But I’m not sure.
Ethan doesn’t strike me as the selfish, immature bully he was before—and what could he really learn from a sham marriage?
Talk about heavy handed.
I mean, it’s possible. It’s a better explanation than anything I’ve come up with.
We’ll probably never know what he was thinking unless he reaches out through a psychic or a Ouija board. So basically never.
I just can’t quite believe Leonidas would go this drastic.
He knew his grandson better than anyone, and from what I know, he was proud of Ethan for stepping up to carry on his legacy before he died.
There must be more to it than just family branding and a bizarre way to emotionally manipulate Ethan into being responsible.
I just can’t figure out his motive, and it could mean everything for deciphering the rest of this craziness.
The sun glows like a flaming pumpkin when I meet Ethan at Leonidas’ old estate.
We head down to the beach near sundown and stroll along the sand, Ares walking calmly beside us. Ethan hasn’t bothered putting him on a leash—he’s too lazy to go chasing seagulls or get lost at his age.
One more thing I love about Portland’s best boy.
Though he won’t admit it, I think Ethan’s coming around to him, too, occasionally bending down to pat the old dog, sharing treats to encourage him to keep up.
It’s a struggle not to laugh when I catch him pulling out a secret dog cookie.
“You carry dog treats around now? Who are you?”
“He’s highly motivated by food,” Ethan grumbles. “I figure it’s sneak him a couple cookies, or I’ll have to lug him back.”
“Right.” I giggle.
“Anyway, you asked about the house…” And he fills me in on the remains of Leonidas’ estate.
It’s a long process involving a lot of people. Margot plus Hardass Holden and other former staff. They’re still cleaning it up and sorting through everything.
Eventually, when everything’s done, the old mansion will be sold, but I’m not sensing any great rush.
“Wilkes still has unfinished business with the will before the house goes on the market. My cousin, Cleo, she’s big into art and I guess he left her some treasure that’s very hush-hush. Glad it isn’t my problem,” he says with a shrug. “The old man left enough on my plate.”
His hesitation makes sense, all things considered, but there’s still a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Will you miss the place? The memories, I mean? I know it won’t be the same without Leo around…”
“I love the old house, but it hasn’t felt the same for a long time,” he admits. “We spent our best summers there. You, me, Margot, and Cleo. But I have my own place, Margot does too, and it doesn’t make sense to keep it around purely for nostalgia. The place costs a pretty penny to run. Even if we started offering tours as a historic home, the maintenance would be insane.”
“That’s a shame, Ethan. I’ll miss it.”
“End of an era,” he agrees.
As we dig our toes into the sand, just like we did in New York, I reach out and take his hand.
Hesitantly at first, still thinking he’ll pull away.
If mind-blowing sex isn’t too intimate, this totally is, but he squeezes my fingers, twisting so our fingers are linked.
After everything else we’ve done, it shouldn’t feel like a big deal.
But somehow, it’s intense and real, the way we’re palm to palm, fingers intertwined, a tingle racing through my skin.
Oh no.
It’s nothing, it’s nothing.
Just a fling.
Just a silly, impulsive ruse.
Not that I’d know what a fling should feel like.
This is kinda my first, keeping things casual.
“Shit, there it is. When I talked to Holden yesterday, he said it was still around. I thought he was joking.” Ethan slows, nodding at an abandoned, washed-up fishing ship half-buried in a sand dune.
I recognize it instantly, the same old boat, only a little more worn by time and the elements.