Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
The next few months of living at home had been hell on earth. I should have gone to Smith, continued along my path, but I just… I just couldn’t. Mom wasn’t supportive, though she did help with my medical bills. I never told her what had happened—that a billionaire and the priest who’d given me first communion, among others, had been behind it. I’d signed up for the student health insurance at college, but since I never went, it didn’t kick in. Gradually, Mom and I went into major debt, and I turned to meth.
Not my finest hour.
Eventually, I got help, but when I was finally clean, I had to take care of that bill plus others. I also needed to leave my mother. Our relationship had turned from bad to toxic. Nothing other than rock bottom could have made me approach Derek Wolfe. I’d had no other choice.
I perused my menu. The prices were outrageous, worse than Mosaic in Las Vegas. Ridiculous. Seventy-five dollars for cod? Must be a damned good cod.
Our waiter came and went, taking our cocktail order. I declined, but Reid ordered something called Pappy Van Winkle fifteen-year.
“Anything look good?” he asked me.
I folded the menu and placed it on top of my plate. “Not really.”
“Order anything. Whatever you want. Your days of eating tilapia with lemon are over.”
“Are they?” I asked. “Isn’t this a temporary arrangement? I have to go back to work once it’s all over.”
“Actually”—he took a sip of the amber liquid our waiter had just set down—“you don’t.”
My heart jumped. Did that mean…? Did he want to stay married…? Hope coursed through me. Could I really be with the man I loved?
“You’ll be entitled to spousal maintenance,” he went on, “after the marriage ends.”
“Oh.” A lump emerged in my throat. He’d already said something like that previously.
You’ll never have to go back if you don’t want to, Zee. I’ll see that you’re always taken care of, even after the marriage ends.
The words made me feel hollow inside.
I cleared my throat, struggling to hold back tears. “That’s not necessary.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? After what my father put you through? You’re entitled to a hell of a lot more than that.”
“But I—”
He gestured me to stop. “You’ll be well taken care of, Zee. You’ll have the best of everything, and you’ll never have to work again.”
The news should have made me ecstatic, especially after the life I’d led for the past ten years. No more destroying my body as a showgirl. No more baring my breasts to the world. No more apartment with three roommates. No more sharing a bedroom with Mo.
It didn’t.
It meant a life without Reid. Reid’s money wasn’t Reid.
I shook my head. “I never asked you for anything.”
He smiled. “That’s why I’m happy to give it to you. You deserve it. You’ve earned it.”
“That’s ridiculous. Maybe I deserve it, but I sure as heck haven’t earned a penny of it.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s exactly what you meant. You got to fuck me. Got to see me naked, scars and all. I won’t take your money for that.”
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean it that way. You must know that.”
I did know that. I was being pissy again. Bitchy again. All because to Reid, this was simply a marriage of convenience, while to me, it was so much more. I buried my nose in the menu again.
Reid didn’t say anything for the next few minutes. I grew hot, my flesh itching. It wasn’t anger or fear. I didn’t know what it was. I just had to leave this table.
I cleared my throat again, and he looked up.
“I need to use the ladies’ room,” I said abruptly.
He nodded. “All right. Do you want an appetizer if the server returns?”
“No.” I stood and whisked away from our table.
Once in the ladies’ room, I stood in front of a sink letting the cold water run. I splashed it onto my face. Thank goodness I hadn’t put any foundation on and my mascara was waterproof. I splashed the chilliness onto my face two more times and then blotted dry with a luxury cloth towel provided by the attendant. A tray with tips sat on the counter. I’d left my purse at the table. I smiled apologetically at the attendant and reached for the door.
“Ow!” I slapped my neck.
Something bit me.
Then…nothing.
8
Lacey
The trout amandine Rock had ordered for me tasted like potting soil, but I dutifully ate all of it, forcing each bite down. I didn’t touch the wine. Even Rock only had half a glass with his beef tenderloin.
“What can I do for you, baby?” Rock asked, after he’d moved our room service cart out into the hallway. “Anything within my power, and it’s yours.”
Let’s run. Let’s get on your bike, head upstate, and cross into Montreal by morning. So Tempting. Rock’s Harley had arrived a few days ago and was in storage somewhere. We could totally do it.