Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Anastasia looks like she wants to say something condescending, but instead, she simply smiles and nods.
“That’s nice. So, what are you guys up to tonight?”
The sight of her trying to play nice with men she clearly hates due to their gender alone would be comical if I wasn’t one of the men she hated.
The guys all stare at her—out of shock or discomfort, I have no clue—so I answer her. “We’re watching the game.” I nod toward the baseball game that’s still going in the background. “We ordered pizza and wings. It should be here soon if you want to join us.” I turn her toward me and tip her chin so she’s looking at me. “I could start that lesson in sports I promised you.”
I smirk, knowing the last thing she wants is to sit with me and the guys and watch baseball. “What do you say, babe? Pizza, beer, and baseball with your man?”
She blinks rapidly several times and then glares, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor. “I wish I could, babe. But we have our pitches due Friday. Are you already done with yours?”
“It’s not rocket science,” I say, playing off the fact that I still have no damn clue what I’m going to do. I was trying to put something together all day, but I’m having a major creative block … or maybe I’m just overthinking shit. “I’ve secured dozens of deals.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’ll be ready for Friday, no problem.”
“Really?” she says, the challenge evident in her tone. “Since you seem to think you have this in the bag, why don’t we make this interesting?”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask, resting my hands on her hips and tugging her toward me.
“If I win, you have to …” She looks around thoughtfully, and then her eyes light up. “You have to cook me dinner for a month.”
I chuckle at how adorable she is, wanting something as normal as home-cooked meals. The truth is, she doesn’t need to win a bet to get me to cook for her. I’d do it willingly—every damn day for the rest of our lives if she let me. That admission should scare the hell out of me because she’s supposed to be the enemy, yet I still can’t stop wanting her.
Fuck, I’m so screwed with this woman.
“And what do I get if I win?” I murmur.
“What do you want?” she volleys.
“You,” I say without thought.
Her eyes widen, and she glances behind her at the guys nervously, reminding me we have an audience. I have no clue why I just said I want her when, technically, I already have her due to our fake engagement, but I need to fix this before I blow our cover.
“I want you alone for a weekend,” I clarify. “A romantic weekend away. Just the two of us.”
She sighs in relief, but to the guys, she probably sounds like she’s in awe over how romantic her fiancé is.
“Sure,” she says, extending her hand to shake on it, not realizing that I’m being dead serious.
I take her hand in mine and pull her toward me until our bodies are flush. Then, I kiss her before she can stop me, relishing in her soft lips.
“What was that for?” she whispers so nobody can hear her but me.
“Sealed the bet with a kiss,” I mutter, knowing it’s in my best interest to stay away from her unless it’s necessary, but also realizing I can’t stop the gravitational pull I feel toward her.
She’s threatening my career and my future, yet I still want her. Since I refuse to acknowledge how crazy that makes me, I’m sticking to the whole Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And since Anastasia is my enemy, I’m going to work extra hard at keeping her very, very close.
“So, by creating a familial atmosphere, I think Ronan Flynn will be more inclined to sign. He is, after all, a family man.”
Anastasia smiles at the room, and everyone nods in agreement. The woman hasn’t been here more than a week, and she’s already got everyone eating out of her damn hands.
After she left the other night to hide out in her room while the guys and I finished our game and devoured our weight in pizza and wings, they mentioned no less than a dozen times how hot my fiancée was and that her feistiness only made her that much sexier. I didn’t disagree with them, but I think what rubbed me the wrong way was the fact that she wasn’t actually mine.
And then yesterday, I saw her having lunch with half the tech department and several of the marketing people. She thinks kissing ass is going to give her the upper hand, but I’ve been working with these people for years, and their loyalty lies with me.