“He started it.” Jules fumes. “He got me into this whole mess.”
I discreetly stroke a hand over my insulted genitalia. He’s been through a heck of a lot over the past few days.
I open my mouth and I say the douchiest words I have ever uttered. “At least I made sureyouwere taken care of.I’vebeen suffering from the most painful case of blue balls since you conveniently ‘fell asleep’ and left me hanging.”
Her nose turns up at me in utter disgust. “Oh, poor you. Cry harder.”
I get it. She’s mad at herself for hopping into bed with someone she hates, so now she’s in defensive mode.The feeling is mutual.
“Look, I don’t want to stand here making small talk about what we did the other night,” Jules bites. “That little roll between the sheets with you might cost me my trust fund. Stupid goddamn morality clause,”she mutters under her breath.
Intrigued by what she just said, I abandon the door handle. The door closes with a soft thud as I wait for her to elaborate. But her lips are now clamped shut.
“Oh, a trust fund baby. Interesting,” I say when she leaves me waiting for a response.
This revelationisquite interesting. It establishes a new and unexpected layer to Jules. Yet another thing I can’t help but be curious about.
A trust fund means family. History. Connection. Backstory.
Getting cut off from said trust fund? Well,thatmeans family drama.And I’m curious about that, too.
For some reason, I want to know more about Jules. A part of me wants to know everything. But I won’t ask.Too much pride for that.
She rolls her eyes up to her hairline. “Stop making assumptions about me. My trust fund is…complicated. Plus, I’m having a shitty day, okay?” She shoots me a dirty look.
I scoff. “You’re not the only one having a shitty day. I’m having lunch with a bunch of hypocritical philanderers who don’t want to do business with me on the grounds that—”I shut myself up, resisting the urge to yank on my hair. Rule number one of business—never expose your vulnerabilities to a rival.
But Jules’s narrowed eyes flick up to mine.Something I said caught her attention. “On the grounds that you’re not married…” she states, shocking me shitless.
Before I can control my reaction, my eyebrows dip down on a frown.
Jules chuckles. “I might have overheard some of your business meeting today. I got the gist that they didn’t likeyou because you’re single? Fucking stupid, if you ask me. But whatever.”
I blink slowly. “Yeah. Whatever.”
A second ago, Jules looked ready to flee, but now she looks curious, too. Maybe the idea that we’re both having a shitty day brings us a connection through our shared misery. Maybe she’ll offer me a little empathy.
Ha! Doubtful.She’s probably just thrilled that I’m failing at life.
“Well, I’m practically about to get cut out of my family estate until I have a husband,” she mutters out of nowhere, kicking at a pebble on the ground.
“Ouch!” I flinch. Sothat’swhat’s got her panties in a bunch…
Jules folds her arms across her chest. “What’s so special about marriage anyway? Why does everyone put it up on a damn pedestal?”
I shrug. “Did it once. It definitely wasn’t for me.”
“Most married couples don’t even like each other,” she tosses out.
I let out a snort. “You and I don’t like each other. Maybe we should get married. It might just solve some of our problems.”
“Don’t joke like that,” Jules mutters. “I’m desperate enough to consider that as a proposal.”
I nearly choke on oxygen, floored by her response. I thought I meant it as a joke, but maybe I’m onto something.
The problem-solving part of my mind starts spinning. Is Jules being serious right now? Am I? Could a marriage actually solve our problems? Would it sort out my business woes,andsomehow fix her trust fund drama?
I take a step forward, frowning. “Are you? Desperate enough?”
