Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) Read Online Fiona Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Blame it on the Alcohol Series by Fiona Cole
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
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“I won’t hide our marriage, Verana. This is where we both work. How long did you think it would take for them to find out? Besides, you’re mine, and I want everyone to know it,” I added, rounding my desk, giving a pointed look to the ring.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes at the precious stone. “Where did you get this? A gumball machine on your way to work this morning?”

“It was my mother’s, which was her mother’s. I got it from the bank the morning after you signed the contract.”

All cockiness drained from her face. “Oh.”

I sat in my seat and shifted papers around but didn’t see any of them. Instead, I focused on her taking soft steps to the chairs across from my desk and gracefully sitting on the edge. Her fire from moments ago gone, lost under her gaffe.

She studied the ring and twisted it this way and that. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

My heart lurched, wondering what my mother would say at seeing it on her. Would she approve?

Shoving the emotions aside, I changed the subject. “Have you told your father yet?”

“No. I haven’t seen him since our last encounter.”

“And Camden?” I asked, still not looking up but feeling the tension from across the desk.

“No.” When I didn’t speak, she filled the silence, her nerves palpable in her shaking voice. “I’m a little nervous to face my father again, and it seems too big an announcement over the phone.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. That’s okay,” she laughed unexpectedly, finally pulling my attention up. “No need to place you in the middle of it.”

“I’ll face it eventually as your husband. We’ll face it together.”

She sobered, and a softness I barely caught glimpses of entered her gaze. Warmth bubbled uncomfortable through my chest, and I shook it off, looking back down at nothing.

“We’ll go after work.”

She stiffened again, back to her stubborn, annoyed self. With a nod, she left, taking any warmth with her.

Pulling up to the regal brownstone, I wondered if it was the end of the line for going incognito. Would Lorenzo recognize me? Would he see my father and grandfather he so cruelly almost destroyed in my features and know? Would he see me and raise his guard higher than I could get past? It would be one thing for me to swoop in to take his daughter, but if he knew I had even the slightest desire to do it to his company too, the game could end before I was ready.

I banked on his arrogance and the view of my company being too small to be threatening. Even if he did recognize me, he wouldn’t know I was gunning for him.

Coming with Vera was a risk, but the slight tremor she tried to hide behind a ramrod spine had me wanting to be by her side. I couldn’t send her to the wolves alone. Especially not after what happened the last time they spoke.

“I never disobey my parents,” she admitted quietly, staring out the window. “I push at my boundaries, but never outright disobey.”

I let go of the handle and turned to face her.

“You wouldn’t have to if they had your best interest at heart.”

She turned, laying the full effect of her large doe eyes on me, bringing the warmth back. “I thought they did. In a million years, I never thought I’d be here, ready to stand up against my father—my mother—and the tradition we’ve had for years. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.”

I grazed my thumb along her cheek, reminding her without words of the abuse her father gave to her. “For one thing, it’s not just your father. No one should cave to a man like Camden.” She chewed her lip in indecision, dropping her gaze. Lifting her chin high, I tugged the thick flesh from under her bite and dragged my fingers back and forth, soothing the assault. “Secondly, never cower for anyone’s approval. Make mountains. Then crush them under your own decisions. Traditions are the past, and the past is never more important than our futures. Own it.”

I soothed her panic because it spurred my own. My vision of the future shifted into high-gear when she came into my life—I couldn’t have her backing out now. But a part of me also soothed her panic because I just wanted to. I wanted to infuse her with strength and watch her stand on her own. She deserved it.

A soft nod, and then she lifted her chin on her own, no longer needing my support. It was a beautiful sight to watch her tug her armor in place, pull her shoulders back, and slip her cloak of strength around her.

She sat like a queen and waited for me to open the door. Letting me help her from the car and guide her up the steps, like a peasant there for her bidding. It was awesome.


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