Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
He's twenty-five. He owns the hottest tech company on the market. He screams of power, money, control.
Filthy rich and incredibly handsome.
The body of an Olympic swimmer. The face of Prince Charming. There are ugly parts to Shepard, yes, but those scars are hidden beneath the surface.
They're—
"I need you, Jasmine," he says. "I need you to be my wife."
Chapter Two
Shepard
Jasmine sinks into her chair. She presses her lips together. Brings the espresso cup to her mouth.
Takes a tiny sip.
Her lipstick—something red and rich that drives me out of my fucking mind—doesn't stain the glass. The kind of lipstick that stays on. That won't mark my skin.
Why is she drinking a macchiato? She hates coffee. Always talks about the superiority of tea.
She's a smart woman. Maybe she's doing it to drive me mad. So I spend the entire meeting wondering if her lipstick will stain my cock.
Or maybe I don't know the woman she's become.
The thought makes my stomach twist. But I don't have time for these kinds of considerations.
I certainly don't have time to focus on how badly she wants me.
It's written all over her face. The flush of her cheeks. The heave of her chest. The shudder of her thighs.
Fuck, those thighs—
It's been too long since they've been pressed against my cheeks. Since she's been under me, clawing at my skin, begging for my mercy.
You should know better, princess. I don't have a single scrap of mercy.
I try to focus on my espresso, but it's not nearly as interesting as her almond eyes.
She turns a few inches toward me. Finishes her drink. Sets the ceramic on the massive desk.
An expensive oak. The perfect height to turn her over and fuck her senseless.
God dammit. I'm better than these impulses. I don't care how long it's been. I don't care how desperately I need to erase my thoughts.
I'm not letting my cock steer this conversation.
It doesn't matter that she's the most beautiful woman in the world. It doesn't matter that she's the only woman I want.
Right now, I don't have a choice.
I need to win her heart in the next thirty days.
Either I convince the world she's in love with me. Or that bastard takes everything that matters.
Slowly, she smooths her pencil skirt. "You know where I stand, Shepard." She refers to the ultimatum she gave me six years ago.
"I do."
"Why do you think I'd marry you?"
"Your father's treatment can't be cheap."
Her dark eyes fill with concern. Over her father's health. Or my knowledge of it. "I have it handled."
"I know how much you make." It's barely enough for rent and groceries in her neighborhood.
"I have it handled."
"It's not enough."
"Our health insurance—"
"Don't be ridiculous." I turn my body toward hers. "Don't play this game, Jasmine." I have a better game, princess. Where I command and you obey. Take off your panties. I want to watch you come.
"What game is that?" Her voice hardens. Her posture goes with it. She folds her arms over her chest. Presses her heels together.
"Don't pretend you don't put your family first."
"Just because you—"
"You'll do anything for him."
"Not anything." She stares at me, daring me to spell it out. To make her a whore. Offer money for her body.
Which is ridiculous. I wouldn't insult her like that. "I'm not paying you for sex."
"You aren't paying me, period, Shep." She grabs her purse. Stands. Moves toward the door. "I'm leaving—"
"A million dollars."
She stops dead in her tracks. "A million dollars?"
"Yes."
"What if I want two?"
"I'm negotiable."
"Why not make it ten? Or twenty? As long as we're living in a fairy tale."
"Seven figures."
"Why do you even—"
I can't explain that. I can't even think about it. "You need the money."
"I have money."
"Not enough." I stand. Place my body between her and the door.
Fuck, she's as beautiful as she was the first time I kissed her.
No longer an innocent girl. No longer full of hope, love, passion.
We've been broken in different ways, but we're both there. Cracked. World-weary. Hiding behind masks.
I need to unpeel hers.
The way her body responds to mine—her blush spreads to her chest, her fingers dig into her thighs, her hair falls over her cheeks.
She wants this. Some part of her does. Even if the rest of her isn't willing to admit it.
Her eyes meet mine. Something passes between us. A memory of what used to be.
Then she steps backward, shakes her head, repeats her claim. "You can't buy me."
She turns and marches out of the office.
But we both know it's only a matter of time.
Maybe she won't hand me her heart willingly.
But she will do this.
The rest is up to me.
Chapter Three
Jasmine
By the time I slide into my expensive ergonomic chair, I'm the picture of a confident, together assistant.
Steady limbs, smooth skirt, easy smile.
My heart is beating so fast I can barely hear my thoughts, but I look the part.