Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
"You need to eat, Constance."
A completely unhinged laugh spills from my lips. I'm losing it. He has driven me straight around the bend to homicidal rage.
"Are you kidding me right now? You manipulated me to get me here! There was no meeting."
"I told you it was canceled."
"By who? Who were we meeting?"
"Investors."
"Which investors?"
He grits his teeth, unwilling to tell another lie…but clearly not ready to confess, either.
"If you don't tell me the truth in the next two seconds, I'm turning in my resignation tomorrow, and your name will be all over my explanation as to why," I threaten, my voice saccharine. "How long do you think you can survive with half of your family actively plotting to poison your coffee?"
His jaw flexes as he stares at me. "Who were you talking to today?"
"What?"
"In your office," he says. "You were on the phone with someone."
"What are you talking about?" I cry, frustrated and confused. He's talking about everything but the dang point, and my head is starting to throb. It's not even a migraine. It's him. He's giving me an aneurysm.
"When I came to your office, you were on the phone," he growls, the muscle in his cheek ticking. "Who were you talking to?"
I open my mouth to tell him I was talking to my brother, and then snap it closed, eyeing him suspiciously. The look in his eyes is intense, like the answer matters to him for some reason.
I think back to that conversation, trying to remember exactly what I said. But honestly, it wasn't anything unusual. Caleb called to tell me that his fiancée, Sutton, is performing at an awards show in Los Angeles soon. They're planning to come and see me before they head back to Nashville.
I told him that I couldn't wait to see him. Sutton is a big country star, so they've been spending a lot of time in Nashville since they got together a few months ago.
"Who is he, Constance?"
"What?"
"The man you think you love," he grits out, his eyes black.
I gape at him for a minute, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. Trying to understand it. And then realization hits like a gong. Oh my gosh. Did Bastian orchestrate this entire dinner because he's jealous?
I automatically want to dismiss the possibility as preposterous…but the way he's looking at me like the fate of the world hinges on my answer tells me that it's not preposterous at all. Bastian Grayson, autocratic pain-in-my-ass, orchestrated this entire farce of a dinner meeting out of sheer jealousy.
Haven and Jax are going to flip when they find out.
"Why do you care?" I ask instead of answering. Part of me wants to squeal like a little girl, though. Bastian is losing his mind with jealousy over me. This is so bad…and I love it anyway.
"You know why," he grits out, tugging me closer to his body.
"Humor me," I say, tossing his words from this morning back at him.
He stares at me silently for so long that I don't think he's going to answer me. But then he rumbles a curse. "You're a problem for me. Ever since you came to work at the vineyard, you've been a problem. You sit across from me, mouthing off, and all I want to do is push you to your knees and fill that fucking smart mouth. Now, tell me who the fuck he is."
It's my turn to stare at him, shocked, my heart racing…turned on and twisted inside out. He's going to ruin me. I know he is. I see it in his eyes, the desire to do just that. To break me apart and mold me into something else, something that's entirely his. It'll probably end in disaster. Isn't that the way it always ends when you sleep with your boss? Disaster, heartbreak, and complete devastation.
I should run from that, far and fast. Except…
"Yeah, I lied about the meeting," he says, his eyes still locked on me. "But I wasn't letting you go out with some motherfucker who doesn't know what you want and who will never deserve you."
"I was talking to my brother," I say softly, calmly.
"Fuck," he grunts, yanking me fully up against him. One hand plunges into my hair, craning it back. The other wraps around my waist, pinning me against the hard wall of his chest.
His lips come down on mine, all bourbon, heat, and hard command. I groan into the kiss, my fingers tangled up in the lapels of his jacket to hold him in place. Even though the air is frigid around us, it steams between us as his tongue touches mine.
He consumes me with his kiss, annihilating every single expectation I ever had. It's been years since I was last kissed, and it was never like this. This is an inferno igniting and consuming everything it touches—my sanity, my body, and him.