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)
When the hostess clears her throat because we’re standing in the doorway, Brielle blushes and takes a step back, nearly bumping into me.
“Sorry,” she says. “It’s just that your portfolio is so inspiring, and I’m hoping to one day open a Pilates studio of my own. Your marketing plans and investments …”
What? How the hell did I not know that?
Of course you wouldn’t know that. The woman can barely stand being in the same room as you. She’s not going to willingly share her goals and dreams with you.
“You know,” Malcolm says with a small laugh, “MK Holdings isn’t all me.”
Brielle’s brows furrow, and Genevieve laughs.
“It’s half mine,” I tell my future wife with a smirk. “I’m the K in MK.”
Brielle’s eyes turn into saucers, and I chuckle as I slide my arm over her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I whisper into her ear as I guide her into the restaurant. “We still have a lot to learn about each other. For instance, I had no idea you were so into cowboys,” I say to remind her how ridiculously dressed she is.
“Oh God,” Brielle gasps. “Wait. I can’t go in there.” She glances up at me and glares. “This is all your fault.”
“Mine?” I bark out a laugh. “Nah, that outfit was all you, Princess. Giddyup.”
Not wanting Brielle to be completely embarrassed, even though she deserves it, I have the hostess sit us in a private corner on the terrace that overlooks the Atlantic. Brunch goes well, our topics flitting from business to personal. Mal and Viv have moved up to northern Florida to be closer to her family, so I haven’t seen them in several months, and it’s nice to catch up with my friends.
“You’ll have to come back down for the wedding,” I tell them, taking the check and sliding my card inside.
“What? You’re getting married?” Genevieve gushes, glancing at Brielle’s hand.
While I’m close with them, nobody—besides Brielle’s family—knows that our marriage is a farce.
“Not yet,” I say, pulling Brielle into my arms. “But she’s the one—I can feel it.” I kiss her temple and inhale her vanilla scent. “And I fully plan to make her mine sooner rather than later.”
Genevieve, ever the romantic, sighs. “I never thought I’d see the day. You were always the perpetual bachelor.”
“Guess it was just a matter of finding the right woman.”
I tilt Brielle’s head back and look into her azure eyes, and I don’t know if it’s because she’s putting on an act, but for the first time since the night we spent together—before she knew who I was—she willingly brings her lips to mine.
Her tongue slips between my parted lips, and the moment I taste her sweetness, I get caught up in everything that is Brielle, wanting and craving more of her.
But I need to be careful because addiction is nothing to fuck with.
My dad was addicted to power.
My mom was addicted to my father.
And Enrique was addicted to revenge.
And look how those situations turned out.
My father is buried six feet under. My mother is heartbroken. And my brother’s body is nothing but ash. And if I let my addiction get the better of me, I’ll end up like the rest of my family.
14
Brielle
He’s going to do it tonight. I can feel it.
Kane is going to propose.
It’s been a week since I was forced to move in with him.
Since I came up with the bright idea to infiltrate his bedroom and bathroom with my stuff, thinking it’d overwhelm him, only for him to not even bat an eye.
Not that it should surprise me.
Every game I play, Kane ends up winning.
I dressed like a knockoff cowgirl to go to a business brunch, thinking he’d either tell me to change or I’d be denied admittance to the country club, but he was one step ahead, taking us to his restaurant.
I tried to seduce him, thinking it would lead to getting info out of him, but one kiss, and I threw my plan out the window, unable to handle being that close to him—not if I had any chance of resisting my soon-to-be husband.
I leave my clothes all over the floor like a slob, and they magically end up washed and hung up. I scatter my makeup and lotions all over the his-and-hers sinks and counters, and when I go to wash my face in the evening, it’s all neatly placed on my side.
Every morning, I leave for the gym before he gets up to avoid him, and every night, he has dinner on the table when I walk in the door.
The only thing I’ve managed to avoid is having sex with him. I sleep on my side of the bed, and he sleeps on his, not even attempting anything with me.
I don’t know if I’m thankful that he’s respecting my wishes or aggravated that I have a man at my disposal who knows how to satisfy me, but doesn’t due to my stubbornness.