“Whatever.” I pluck the card out of his fingers. “In that case, let’s go shopping. I need to buy my maid of honor a special gift.”
Nicole grins, and Kane remains stoic.
We’ll see how stoic he is when I max out his card and show him what he’s getting himself into by marrying me.
Hell, maybe if I spend enough, he’ll realize I’m not worth the hassle and call the whole damn thing off.
“C’mon, bestie,” I say, grabbing my coffee and muffin with one hand and Nicole’s hand with the other. “We have a wedding to plan.”
15
Kane
“Maybe because thewedding of my dreams was supposed to be with the man of my dreams.”
I’m in the middle of a meeting with Ena Odell, my tech consultant, at the restaurant in the country club, discussing how to take Morgan Enterprises to the next level, but the only thing I can focus on is Brielle. It wasn’t just what she said, but how she looked when she said it, like she genuinely wanted to marry her dream man and that couldn’t possibly be me.
Who says I can’t be her dream fucking man?
My thoughts go back to when Brielle and I spent the night together. She was looking for the perfect balance of control.
Her dumbass ex had given in to her every whim, which was why he bored her. But with me, while I gave her the control she craved, I also set boundaries she needed.
“You might’ve given me the control that night, but the next day, you took it away.”
That night was supposed to be just that—one night. But like the deadliest spider, she spun me into her web, and rather than risking being caught and killed, I pulled her out and dragged her down with me. Because the thought of never being with her again was unfathomable.
The problem is, forcing Brielle to marry me meant taking away her control …
“Mr. Morgan,” Jack, my assistant, says, tearing me from my thoughts. “I need to take this call.”
I nod and then focus my attention on Ena, who goes back to discussing how purchasing a new program that just came onto the market would improve operations and increase efficiency.
“If you look at line four on page six …”
I flip through the portfolio she gave me, but can’t find what she’s talking about, so she leans in.
“Right—”
“Does Brielle know you’re having lunch with another woman?” a voice cuts in.
Theodore DeSantis.
“Excuse me?” I quirk a brow, daring him to fuck with me.
“You went through all the trouble to steal her from me, and now you’re out with another woman,” he accuses. “Brielle deserves better.”
How old is this guy? Fourteen?
“Steal her from you?” I scoff, standing and towering over him, having had enough of his bullshit.
“That cocktease was mine fir?—”
“You’d better watch what you say,” I warn him, backing him against the edge of the bar. “Brielle is mine, and I’m protective of what’s mine.”
“Yours? No way.” He scoffs, refusing to believe it. “I heard you’re working with the Antonovs, and Brielle said she wouldn’t be with anyone associated with them.”
“Hmm … well, she’s living undermyroof”—I chuckle mirthlessly just as I spot Matteo and Lorenzo walking over—“sleeping inmybed. Seems like she’s mine to me.”
