Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 477(@300wpm)
“Now, Fern Lambert, do you mind telling me exactly what the fuck you’re playing at?”
Chapter
Three
Fern stared up into that darkly handsome, furious face, her hand absently massaging the spot where he had grabbed her. It didn’t hurt—far from it—but a tingle radiated slowly outward from what had been the point of contact, and it washed her whole body with uncomfortable warmth.
“I know how this must look,” she murmured, finally finding her voice, after the silence between them had stretched on a beat too long. “I’m not playing at anything. But… but I do need your help.”
She was proud that she’d managed to say that much with only the slightest tremble in her voice.
“You knew who I was. At the gala.” His voice was steely but his words made her frown in confusion.
“Of course, I told you so, remember?”
Now it was his turn to frown, just a brief flickering of his brow before his expression smoothed over again, replaced by that beautiful emotionless mask, while his eyes burned into her face.
“You knew about the deal,” he elaborated. “Was our meeting a set up for one of Abernathy’s ploys? A way for him to undermine the contract?”
“No. I knew he was in negotiations with your company, as well as the Goldings. And, I think, Alba something? But I didn’t realize that he’d settled on a buyer. He seemed to be having too much fun toying with all the interested parties.”
“Golding Engineering and the Alva Group?” he repeated, his face no longer emotionless, now settled into a thundercloud.
“Yes. I wasn’t supposed to know even that much. He doesn’t tell me anything. He says it’s nothing for me to concern myself over. But he’s dismantled several of my mother’s—my—assets in the past and sold them off as spare parts. He thinks I’m unaware of what he’s done. But even if he did know I knew, he wouldn’t care. What I think—what I want—is not important to him. Lambecrete is one of Lambert Holdings’ biggest and most profitable companies. It was my mother’s pride and joy, and he’ll use it to leverage what he really wants from you and your family.”
He watched her intently, eyes narrowed as if was trying to gauge her truthfulness. He folded his arms across his impressive chest and leaned back against the door. She only now noticed that he was wearing light gray sweatpants and a short sleeved white T-shirt. His feet were bare. The sight of those long, narrow feet did strange things to her stomach, and she swallowed and hastily diverted her gaze back to his broody face.
He didn’t seem to notice her momentary distraction, and definitely didn’t seem too aware of her flushed cheeks. Instead, he remained focused on her last statement. “And what does he really want from us?”
“Your name. Your influence. Your connections. He wants to be you. He wants the respect and influence that goes with being a Hawthorne. And as far as he’s concerned, the only way to achieve that is through marriage. Yours. Or your brother’s. To Toni or Allie.”
He made a scoffing sound and shook his head curtly as if in rejection of that idea.
“Not fucking likely.”
“He believes he has you exactly where he wants you. If seven months of negotiations didn’t scare you off, then he likely thinks you’re willing to do anything for this deal.”
“He’d be wrong.”
“Do you want Lambecrete?”
His gaze bored into her face with laser-like intensity and she shifted uncomfortably beneath that piercing stare. “Not that much.”
“If you help me, I can ensure you get it.”
“Help you how?”
She swallowed enfolding her arms around her body and taking a few steps backward until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She sat down and inhaled deeply.
“My mother died when I was twelve. She loved me, she wanted to protect me. I know that. Part of that protection was entrusting my inheritance to someone she believed she could trust, someone who would always put me first. She’d been married to Granger only a couple of years at that point. We had no other family and she didn’t want to leave me and my interests in the hands of an impersonal board. I know she did what she thought was best. She put my inheritance in trust until I was twenty-five. Or married. Whichever came first. With the caveat that—if Granger did not think I was ready to manage my own wealth at the age of twenty-five—he could extend the period up to an additional five years.”
She swallowed heavily, shuddering as she considered how Granger had abused her mother’s trust—literally and figuratively—over the years.
“I’m twenty-seven. Suffice it to say, to the surprise of no one at all, Granger did not think I was ready to manage my own wealth two years ago. But he’s getting desperate, he’ll lose control of my money in just under three years. And he’s now been hinting at me marrying—” Her voice broke on the last word and she shook her head. “Marrying his nephew… Richard. Once I marry I—supposedly—will have control of my own funds and assets. But I know… I just know that if I marry someone like Richard—someone firmly in my stepfather’s corner—Granger will find a way to take that control away from me. He and his daughters have been trying to undermine my self-esteem for years, making me feel small, incompetent, stupid, incapable at pretty much everything I do.” She privately acknowledged that they had been more successful than she would’ve liked. Even though she’d known what they were doing, the relentless mockery, criticism, and negativity had eaten away at her dignity and self-confidence. Like slowly dripping acid corroding away at metal. She hated that they’d done that to her, hated that she’d allowed it.