“I’m not joking. I’ll get up and leave, and this whole thing will be over.”
He nods once and mercifully pulls his arm away. “Despite what you may think, I really do want this deal to go through.” He moves away, back toward the windows again, and I feel like I can breathe. “My family needs this as much as yours does.”
“Then why not forget this stupid marriage thing?”
“I told you already. The company is only one piece. Your name is the other.” He stares at the sky and I feel like he wants to tell me more, but can’t bring himself to say it. “Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.”
“I’ll pick the restaurant. My grandpa will get in touch with your people.”
“I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to hear we’re going out together.”
“This isn’t a date. It’s not—it’s a business meeting. That’s all.”
“Business or pleasure, I don’t really care. It’s all the same to me.”
“Whatever you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it in me, Carmine.”
“Oh, you’re wrong about that, filthy fucking girl. Very wrong.”
I grab the doorknob and wrench it open. I want to tell him what I feel, what I think, in every demeaning and explicit way possible. I want him to feel small and broken, just like I do.
Instead, I run away to Grandpa’s office and try not to think about sitting down across the table from that monster and acting like I’m not tasting dirt.
Chapter5
Carmine
She chooses the most predictably bland high-end restaurant imaginable.
It’snice. Everything about it isnicefrom the smiling hostess to the generically handsome bartender to the candlelit tables. Even the patrons look like clone copies of each other.
The only good thing about this place isher.
Brice Rowe is fucking radiant.
I hate it so much, and it’s goddamn absurd, but she glows. I’ve heard that before, that some women have a glow about them, but with Brice, it’s actually real. She shines, she brightens, she draws every eye in the place, and all she’s wearing is some conservative dress that goes down to mid-thigh and doesn’t leave a hint of skin exposed on her chest, a pair of expensive heels, some tasteful earrings, and a simple little necklace. Her hair’s up and lovely, and her makeup is understated and barely there, and fucking hell, she looks gorgeous.
Clean and prim and proper.
And so fuckable it’s salacious.
She sits across from me in our corner table, somewhat secluded from the rest of the restaurant. It took a little bribery to get this spot, but it was worth the price. Brice sits with her back straight, her knees together, her chin raised, and looks at the menu as if she’s not going to order the same thing she always orders whenever she comes here. The duck or the fish or something.
I ask for a whiskey and she asks for wine.
“What do you think of this evening so far?” I ask her, swirling my drink with a smile and watching her carefully.
She sips the wine, watching me over her glass. “You haven’t said anything terrible yet.”
“I’d call that a win. I promised you my best behavior.”
“I’ll be honest. I didn’t think youhadgood behavior.”
I give her a tight smile and look away. “You don’t get to my position without some manners, believe it or not.”
“Manners? You? Honestly, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week.”
“I’m sure it is.”