“I don’t need to be rescued.” She huffs. “I need answers.”
“First, I’ve never met your stepmother. Second, I don’t buy women for sex or for any other reason. Third, I steer away fromvirgins. And fourth, I’m not an old man.”Dirty, yes, but old, no.“I’m only thirty-one. Enough answers for you, kitty cat?”
Hesitant green eyes scan my face. But as quick as a whip, suspicion flashes back at me. “What’s in it for you? Why are you lying to protect my stepmother?”
“I’m not. I’ve never met the woman.”
“Well, this stunt has her signature all over it—” Michaela brushes a dismissive hand in front of her face. “It doesn’t matter. How areyougoing to get JustSpotted.com to retract the fake announcement?”
I release a breath, my temper ebbing. “We can’t.”
“Hence why I didn’t include myself in the statement,” she says. “I don’t have that kind of power, but you do.” She extends her arms out, as if encompassing my luxurious office.
Even her mocking smile is charming.
“You must have a pricey PR firm at your beck and call. Get them to work their magic. We’re not getting married.”
My brother Slate caught wind of the JustSpotted.com article before I did. He called to warn me. I thought he was pulling my leg, but he wasn’t. As I scrolled through the screaming headlines, I was certain Michaela Knight had played a part in this farce. Her outburst suggests she was caught off guard by the sneaky PR stunt as much as I was. The thing is, she doesn’t have the full story. I do. And I’m about to burst her bubble.
“There’s more to this than meets the eye,” I say.
“No, there isn’t. There’s been a mistake.Youneed to fix it.”
“It’s not a mistake, Michaela.”
Her long eyelashes flutter at the mention of her name.
Then, it hits me. This is the first time her name has passed my lips since she busted into my office.
“You’re missing parts of the puzzle,” I say.
She stares for a long beat, flabbergasted. And then she bursts out laughing. Full on belly laughs.
“You’re cute and all, but either you’re missing a screw or you’re deaf. We. Are. Not. Getting. Married,” she says, enunciating every word.
“Even though I don’t approve of how things were done, I’m not one to renege on a deal, especially not this one,” I say.
“I swear on everything that’s holy, you’re being a stubborn prick just to irritate the hell out of me,” she says. “We don’t know each other. We’re not getting married. End of story.” She jabs a finger at me, a harsh edge breaking through each word.
My eyes rattle back and forth like a ping pong ball from her manicured finger, to her sultry mouth, to her gem-like eyes. She thinks she has leverage here. I’m on the bitter cusp of pulling her onto my lap to teach her who’s in control.
“You have a mouth on you,” I say.
“Congratulations on your power of observation. That still doesn’t change the fact, we’re not getting married.”
This conversation is exasperating. “Have you talked to your father?”
Her disdainful smirk falls.
She doesn’t answer.
“Had you talked to your father before barging in here, trespassing on private property, flying off the handle, wailing about foul play, shrieking and keening like a goddamn banshee, you’d know what’s at stake here.”
She purses her lips together, conceding I’ve one upped her. “I tried to call him, but he’s dealing with a situation.”
“I’m willing to bet my fortune your father is behind this?—”
“My––my father is behind this?”
