Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 40311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
“So what about you, Mr. Lincoln? Why are you doing all this? You were kind of vague back at the pet store with this- this fake fiancée stuff,” she stammered.
What a question. But it was only fair, right? I dragged her into this. My life should be an open book. Or at least somewhat of an open book because I wasn’t going to scare her with the raunchy parts quite yet.
But how to describe my life without seeming like a douche? Because I’m the guy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. From birth, it’s been privilege non-stop. Private schools, yachts, college, the obligatory European tour, and then a job at my family’s company. From the outside, it looks like I was handed everything. But nothing is ever that simple, and I work hard for this shit.
After all, Henry Lincoln is a hardass. When I described him as a human form of Bowzer, that was an understatement. He’s Bowzer times five. Or times ten. He’s a ruthless businessman who doesn’t know how to turn it off when he steps away from the boardroom. Thus my current predicament. Marriage for control of the Lincoln Corp.? What the hell? The two had nothing to do with one another, but Henry doesn’t see it that way.
So I explained it to Maggie in broad brush strokes, leaving out the worst parts.
“My dad’s an control freak,” I said smoothly. “He wants to control my life, but it’s just a ruse. In reality, he doesn’t want to give up the CEO position at our family company, so he’s made it impossible by demanding that I get married.”
Maggie paused.
“But why is that impossible?” she asked with a puzzled gaze. “There must be tons of women who want to marry you,” she murmured, cheeks coloring.
It was a good question.
“There are,” I confirmed shortly. “The ladies love me, but I need something different. I need to get married and then divorced immediately, no fuss, no muss. I want this to be a business deal, and that’s why you’re here.”
The brunette nodded slowly.
“You don’t have any female friends that would do it?” she asked. “That’s why you need a stranger?”
I nodded curtly.
“That’s exactly why I need an unknown,” were my clipped words. “Female friends develop feelings. Pretty soon they want clothes, jewelry, and worst of all, time and attention. But this isn’t a love thing,” I said, my voice a little cruel. “This is as far as you can get from love. This is a business deal.”
The female recoiled a little, but then she nodded again. Good girl. The truth stings, but it’s better to get it all out there in one go.
“Okay,” she said, the word drawn out on her lips before taking a deep breath. “Mr. Lincoln,” she said more firmly this time. “I have to ask about the parameters. What do you expect from me? Please be specific.”
A black brow raised.
“As in?” was my drawling inquiry.
The brunette flushed.
“I mean, do I just play the role of your fiancée around your parents? Or is this a 24/7 thing?”
A grin flashed.
“My parents are smart, honey. It does no good to act like lovebirds in front of them and then cool and controlled around everyone else. It’s a 24/7 thing for sure.”
She nodded, cheeks going pink once again.
“And when do I get paid?” she asked quietly.
My eyebrows shot up this time.
“I thought you already got paid,” was my smooth growl. “The ten thousand dollar check? Or was that not enough?”
The girl bit her lip then, her pout going rosy. Fuck. How I wanted to devour her right now. That honey pot was waiting to be plundered.
But Maggie had to get her say in first.
“I just mean,” she began slowly. “That I didn’t realize this was a 24/7 thing. If it is, then I need to ask for more,” she said in a rush.
My surprise didn’t show on my face. Because I’m a seasoned negotiator, and hell, I respected her for raising her price.
“How much are you thinking?” was my low drawl, blue eyes calm. “What’s your number?”
Maggie bit her lip again.
“Ten thousand,” she blurted. “Over what you’ve already paid.”
I tapped my fingers lightly, like I was contemplating the proposal. But shit, the female had no idea. Twenty thousand was nothing to me. Hell, my rent on this penthouse was one hundred g’s a month alone.
But hey, I didn’t get to this point in my life by caving at the merest hint of pressure. So I turned a cool, assessing gaze her way.
“If I pay you twenty, do I get extra?”
The girl’s eyes went wide.
“Well no,” she stammered a little. “Other than my time, no.”
The perfect segue.
“Well, I think I deserve a little extra, don’t you? Twenty thou is a lot, even for me,” the words came sliding out between my teeth.