Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I hope that puts that prick in his place. I still have no idea what exactly he called a meeting for, but I don’t give a shit. I’ll be sent the notes from the secretary for it, and I suspect they’ll go directly to my lawyer and only help me in possible criminal charges against the motherfucker if he did mention the legal ties we’re tangled in right now. I need far more than him simply kicking his daughter out to solidify charges. However, harassment is looking more and more possible as he continues his neverending bullshit antics.
A part of me hopes he’ll leave it be. He’s lost. I’ve won. It’s fucking over. But the other part of me wants him to push so I can fucking destroy him.
My oxfords smack on the polished marble floors of the university as students and other faculty walk by, and I try not to think of the bullshit. I offer a nod of acknowledgment and a semblance of a smile to those who greet me.
To say it’s irritating that her father is the fucking dean is an understatement.
Her father is adding fuel to a fire that is already raging. The PI has hit dead end after dead end, and my lawyer’s been hit with a slew of threats from her father’s legal team about his daughter’s very legal right to acquire her belongings. His threats are nothing but smoke and mirrors. He can’t do shit, and if he does, he’ll be wasting money.
His and mine.
My only concern is that he may have more spite than sense… and with Brooklyn getting more and more comfortable in my bed, I wonder if I also reacted too quickly.
After all, she didn’t need her things the very next morning. I made a statement. One that’s obvious he’s heard crystal fucking clearly.
Turning left down the hall, I head out of the university building, but before I can open the door, Mr. Micheals calls out my name from down the hall.
My hand drops from the glass knob, and I turn to him. “Mr. Micheals, how are you?”
The university hall is grandeur and traditional for such an elite university. One of the hardest to get into. Bottom line, you either have the GPA, or your parents better donate a new wing to get their kid accepted. And trust me, even then, they’re not guaranteed a spot in the lucrative college.
If you do make it in, you’re set for life. The connections you acquire just in the four years of your attendance are relationships that will hold weight and power when finding a job or career. That’s what the wealthy do for each other. Sadly, the world is hardly about what you can do. It’s more about who you know.
I don’t make the rules. It’s just the way of this high-class life. These aren’t simply students coming from middle-class homes. No, these students are born with a silver spoon in their mouths, riding to preschool in a limo with a driver.
These students wouldn’t know real life if it smacked them on the ass. This is why I never wanted to depend on my old man and made my own money, which I now seem to be endlessly spoiling Brooklyn with.
If the girl can do one thing, it’s spend money. It appears to be her favorite hobby.
“Doing well,” Mr. Michaels replies with an exaggerated sigh, moving to hold his briefcase with the other hand. “How are you?”
“It’s been a long week, but I’m happy it’s almost the weekend.”
“You didn’t attend the meeting this morning,” he states matter-of-factly, though the inflection in his tone makes it appear to be a question.
“I received the email for the emergency, and unfortunately, I couldn’t attend.” I lie through my fucking teeth, and I know he’s a smart man. He sees right through it.
“Couldn’t? Or decided not to?” he questions, cocking a brow with mild concern.
I attempt to keep my expression neutral, but the tension and irritation show no doubt because he raises a hand as if in defense.
“There are extraordinary circumstances that make certain matters and relationships delicate.”
For a moment, I do wonder what her father said to him. But the moment passes quickly.
“I don’t care what her father attempts to do or wants from us. If it’s required, I will pursue things to the full extent of my abilities.”
The professional language is at odds with my internal thoughts, but surely, I can’t tell Mr. Michaels that I’ll fuck her father with the iron fist of the law if he harasses or otherwise harms my wife.
Fiancée.
Fake fiancée.
Whatever they think she is to me.
I don’t give a fuck.
I’ve known her father is a prick all my life, but I always imagined he was different with his daughter. I know better now than to give him the benefit of the doubt when it comes to anything.