I’d told Lucian not to bother scheduling any interviews for the past two weeks. He’d happily agreed since he had his own company’s financials to worry about.
Despite the stress of this time of year, I walked with an extra pep in my step. Especially at the end of the day, when I went home to a man whom—it terrified me to admit—I was starting to fall for. No matter how much I reminded myself that our agreement had nothing to do with love, I couldn’t help the way my heart skipped a beat when either of us came home to the other.
I struggled more every day to remember our no love rule, when every night he fed me dinner before leading me upstairs to strip me bare and worship me from head to toe.
Before our house party, I’d managed to hold myself steady in the conviction that I would never fall for someone like him. But after he’d cared for me so thoroughly, encouraged my sexual exploration, and gently fucked me as if he loved me, my walls crumbled, leaving my heart exposed.
Remembering the passionate way he’d feasted on my mouth as if he’d never tasted anything better sent an illicit chill down my spine. Remembering every desperate touch and steady thrust had my core pulsing, needing more.
The elevator doors dinged open three floors down, and I blinked, coming back to the moment. Only to find, none other than Emily stepping in and having nowhere else to stand but right. Beside. Me.
As always, she looked stunning in a black tank top and a long, fitted pinstripe skirt. I wanted to hate her, but couldn’t because she honestly hadn’t done anything to earn my ire.
At least, not until today. She apparently walked onto the elevator, saw me, and decided to choose violence.
“So, Aspen, when is the big day with the new owner of Quinn Music Group?” she asked, her peppy voice full of false innocence. “Or will it still be called Quinn Music Group once he has taken control of the companyandthe previous owner’s daughter?”
Take control of the previous owner’s daughter? Really?
She said it all without even looking at me, blinking her wide, baby blues straight ahead, smiling softly. All of it a charade of good intentions that I was sure everyone in the elevator believed, but I heard the bitchy insinuation and knew better.
Trying to be understanding of her frustration, I adopted a placid expression, mimicking the gentle tilt of her lips, and stared ahead. Despite my best efforts, my icy armor locked in place, and my smile turned more predatory than caring.
I struggled to keep my voice even and calm. “Lucian and I haven’t had a chance to make any solid plans about the date yet. As for the company,” I started, turning my tone hard and authoritative. I twisted to face her, dropping the passive aggressiveness and going for direct. I could handle her bitchiness about a man, but leave my business out of it. “As stated in the company memo, Lucian Daire is a partial owner and will not be capable of changing the name. We will continue to be called Quinn Music Group for the foreseeable future.”
I glanced at Shiloh, finding her brows raised with a look that said,daaaamn,letting me know that maybe I’d revealed more of my irritation than I meant to.
Not that Emily seemed to give a shit. She just giggled…fucking giggled.
“That makes sense that he’s only a partial owner. Mr. Daire can be awfully elusive when it comes to sticking to commitments.”
Her comment annoyed me more than pissed me off, and I struggled not to roll my eyes, letting her believe she’d landed a blow. Her verbal jabs hit more like gentle prodding, making me assume that, underneath her hurt, she was nice, only capable of letting off some steam rather than lashing out with a painful blow.
Then she faced me, and I realized I was very,verywrong.
Despite her continued smile, her eyes hardened like shards of ice, signaling a warning that she was about to be anything but nice.
She tipped her head with exaggerated concern. “How is his godfather, by the way? I heard he wasn’t doing well, and that Lucian was very concerned about…” She brought her finger to her chin, directing a thoughtful look toward the ceiling, as if she didn’t know exactly what bitchy words she planned to say next. She snapped her fingers and smiled wider—her eyes glintingwith malice. “I remember. He was concerned about tying up loose ends and fulfilling…obligations. But then again, I’m sure that marrying the heiress to Quinn Music Group helped resolve everything he needed.”
As if she’d timed it, the doors opened, giving her the perfect exit. With one last fake smile and icy stare, she walked out.
Damn.
If I didn’t have to start hating her now, then I’d admire the way she strutted toward the exit.
But after that interaction, I was done trying to be a better woman. That bitch could go fuck herself.
As if we hadn’t had the most passive-aggressive, knock-down, bitch-fight for everyone’s viewing pleasure, I stepped from the elevator, holding my head high, and ignored the curious looks behind me as I mulled over her final comment.
Did she know that my relationship with Lucian was based on a lie? Did she know about the bargain? Did she know that was the only reason he asked me to marry him?
Did she know because he’d asked her first?
I tried to remind myself that he told me he’d never planned to ask Emily to be his wife—that it was only me, but pressure banded around my chest, turning my breath shallow and weak.
Her words played on repeat, and I picked them apart, struggling to understand how she would know if he hadn’t gone to her first.
“What wasthatabout?” Shiloh asked, pulling me from the spiral of thoughts threatening to drag me under.
