Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“Every day.”
He nodded curtly. “Follow me, Miss Bennett. I’ll show you around.”
I did, falling into step with the middle-aged doctor in a white lab coat. The hallway was vast and full of paintings donated by philanthropists.
“I’m surprised we’ll see you so often.” The neurologist eyed me midstride. “I’d think you’d take at least a little time off, what with your close approaching nuptials.”
I stumbled over my sensible Mary Janes, flying forward and almost sailing straight across the floor. Luckily, I grabbed the wall quickly.
“H-how do you know about my engagement?”
I’d tried my best to ignore my arrangement with Tate this past week.
“Your fiancé came over to assess the amenities yesterday,” he explained. “He seemed…”
Domineering? Merciless? Deranged?
“Intense.” Dr. Stultz’s mouth ticked with a nervous smile.
I had no idea why Tate visited here—it wasn’t on our shared Google schedule—but I was certain it had nothing to do with my mother’s well-being and everything to do with ensuring his future mother-in-law would get the biggest room and the nurse with the biggest tits. He was obnoxiously materialistic.
Nonetheless, a deal was a deal. To access this facility, this program, this opportunity, I had to play the doting fiancée.
“Tate can come off as a bit officious.” I smiled cordially. “I apologize for any discomfort he may have caused. If you ever need anything, please reach ou—”
My phone vibrated in my hand. Speak of the devil.
My boss was calling, probably wanting to scream at me for filling his Stanley cup with Smartwater this morning rather than Volcanic.
Dr. Stultz glimpsed at the source of the sound, catching Tate’s name on the screen. I cleared my throat and pressed it to my ear.
“Yes, er…darling?” I cringed.
“We have a meeting with Mayfair Bank in twenty minutes, and you’re still not here.” He paused. “Did you just darling me?”
I laughed uncomfortably. He wasn’t on speaker, but I couldn’t know for sure Dr. Stultz hadn’t heard him. “Yes, of course. What else would I call you?”
“The bane of your existence,” he supplied grimly. “Gru. Satan’s favorite child. Cruello de Vil. Ernesto de la Cunt. To name a few from this month alone.”
“Are you reading my emails?” My fake smile collapsed. I had never called him these names to his face. I did, however, let out some steam in a chain email thread with my college friends Alix and Sadie. Emails he wasn’t supposed to be privy to.
“It’s my favorite literary genre,” he replied unapologetically. “As for your speculation—no, I don’t have a small dick, deflowering virgins is not my favorite sport, and I do not strangle puppies recreationally.” There was a pause. “The part about taking that Victoria’s Secret model as a lover to rile up her husband only because he is a bad musician is true, though. To be fair, his stupid songs were played on the radio the entire year, haunting me. It was reasonable to seek revenge. I’m only human, after all.”
“This is a breach of my privacy.”
I was so cross with him I could barely breathe. Dr. Stultz’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.
“No such thing between a husband and wife. Where are you?”
“At Mum’s hospital.” I knew better than to hope this would make my future husband more understanding.
“Good,” he said drily. “If you start running now, you’ll make it to the meeting in time.”
“I’m speaking to her doctor,” I protested, my anger rising in a cloud of heat, settling on my cheeks.
“Her doctor can wait. This meeting can’t. Oh, and, Gia?”
At least he’d stopped calling me Miss Bennett. Glass half-full.
With cyanide, but still.
“What?” I gritted out.
“Don’t forget my coffee on your way here.”
I pushed open the doors to the conference room, holding his precious coffee.
Black, like his soul.
The place was empty other than Tate. He wore a charcoal herringbone three-piece suit with a black turtleneck and looked like pure dopamine poured straight into my veins.
I peered around, catching my breath after sprinting here in my heeled Louboutins. “Where is everyone?”
“I decided to cancel the meeting to tend to more pressing issues.” He didn’t look up from his laptop screen. “Namely, your part of our deal.”
He made me drop everything, leave in the middle of an important conversation about my mother’s future, for a meeting he’d canceled?
“I loathe you,” I said quietly. Coolly. “I truly do. I will honor our agreement. I will marry you. But I will also make your life miserable. You’ll be so unhappy, you’ll regret the day you ever met me.”
“The drama.” He sat back, yawning. “I forgot the downside of a tight, young pussy is dealing with the person attached to it. Your theatrics don’t impress me.”
“Don’t deal with me then. Cancel our deal.”
“My coffee?” he asked wryly, snapping his laptop shut. He dragged a thick contract across his desk and perched it over his laptop.
I plucked his coffee order—black, filtered, unsweetened—from the cup carrier, setting it by his elbow. He set his red pen down and reached for it, bringing it to his lips. He stopped before the rim touched his lips.