Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“You realize you’re the woman in this scenario, right?”
I glare at him. “You’re missing the point.”
“That’s not true. I’m ignoring it.” That sly smile plays across his lips. “How has your week been?”
“Since you attacked me in the shower?”
“Since you attacked me in your bathroom,” he emphasizes again. His smile doesn’t shift, nor does he let up his eye contact. He’s so full of shit, but something about his expression makes me think he actually believes he was the one who was attacked, and it won’t do any good to contradict him.
“It’s been fine. Business as usual. Wrath is doing much better. The bruises are healing up.”
“He’s so sexy, I’m sure he can still get anyone he wants even with a few bruises.”
Like a bolt of lightning in my chest, rage sweeps through me, and I lean toward him. “You touch my brother ever, and you’re a dead man.”
My words are a weapon, usually inciting fear in those I threaten, and though I see a flash of worry, it’s quickly replaced with that trademark sadist look and a grin. He reaches across the table, resting his hand atop mine. “Don’t worry, Log. There’s only one Wilde I have my sights set on.”
I realize I’m digging my fingernails into the table, as if trying to keep from lunging across it and attacking him, but I also notice that his assurance sets me at ease.
“I like when you get jealous,” he says, gripping my hand gently.
Another pulse of adrenaline kicks through me, though not nearly as strong as before, and though I don’t want anything to do with this fuck, it makes me question my reaction—was I jealous? No, that’s absurd. I hate this guy. This is all part of this hypnotic spell he has over me. Even the way he’s touching me now.
I yank my hand away, which makes him chuckle, like he knows my resistance is futile. I guess because it is.
“What are you planning to order?” he asks.
“Steak and potatoes.”
“And a salad, I figure.”
“I don’t do salads.”
“They’re good for you.”
“I don’t really care.”
Jesus, we can’t even talk about what we’re eating without it turning into a fight.
I consider asking him what he’s going to order, but I don’t give a flying fuck.
The waiter materializes beside our booth. He pours water into the glasses on the table, then says, “Our best cabernet tonight, as usual, Mr. Lorde?”
That he addressed Killian’s preference and not mine says everything about who’s top dog tonight, something I’m not loving. I’m about to go ahead and order so we can get this over with, but the guy’s already bolted for the wine.
I sip my water when Killian says, “Anything else happen this week?”
As I set my glass on the table, I study his expression. “Why bother? You don’t give a fuck about my week. You don’t give any shits about me outside of what you can take.”
“I can care about what I can take and also about your week,” he says, his lips curling upward. “Maybe we’ll start with Masters. How’s he? And your other brothers?”
That he asked the appropriate question takes me by surprise. “They’re fine,” I say curtly because I don’t want him involved in their lives.
“Work? I hear you’re on the market for new contracts now that the O’Dells are moving business to Chicago.”
I’m not surprised he found out about this, given the circles we run in.
“Aren’t we all on the market?” I poke.
He jabs right back. “Some of us are too busy to take on new contracts.”
Fucking asshole.
I do my best to push past the barb. “We haven’t committed to anyone just yet, but yes, we have been inquiring around, like everyone else. Obviously, I’m hoping we can maneuver this opening in the market to our advantage.”
“You should let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I can do just fine on my own, thank you.”
He smirks, and unlike the rest of our conversation, I sense his admiration, though it’s not something I need. Not from him.
“Speaking of the O’Dells’ transition,” he goes on, “I imagine there’ll be plenty of bloodshed as they try to make space in a market as crowded as Chicago.”
“Well, the O’Dells are good at that.”
“And plenty of bloodshed here in Fury as the power balance shifts yet again.”
“Something we’re not too bad at either.” We both know the truth of it all too well.
“If you do happen to find some business from it,” he adds, “I’m sure you know it likely won’t make enough to cover those debts.”
I grip my seat, digging my nails in. “If this is a real date to you, then maybe don’t remind me that I have to be on this date.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“You know that’s not true.”
He snickers. “Maybe I do, but this is our lot, isn’t it? I learned a long time ago that you either accept fate or let it destroy you.” He looks right through me when he says that, as though thinking about something in particular.