Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I sit down, hunch forward, and lean on my elbows.
The bartender, a pretty girl with the name Roxie on her chest, leans toward me. “If you put a twenty in that machine, I can comp you a drink.”
I stare at her for a second and all I can think is random screaming gibberish. Mechanically, I do what she said.
“There it is. What’ll you have?”
“Gin and tonic.”
“You got it.” Roxie walks off to make my drink.
I sit there woodenly, feeling like I might collapse at any moment. The alcohol appears and I suck down half of it just to give my hands something to do.
I barely notice it when Conlan takes the seat next to mine.
“Hello, Roxie, lovely to see you again. Whiskey, please, and give my assistant here whatever she wants.” Conlan leans toward me. “It wouldn’t be that bad, you know.”
“Explain to me how it wouldn’t be that bad?”
“Well, for one, it would be fake.”
“No kidding. I wouldn’t marry you for real.”
“Ouch. That hurts.”
“Can you blame me?” I twist to face him, drink in my hand. “I’ve seen the worst of you, Conlan. I’ve seen you still drunk stumble down from your bedroom with two random girls on your arms. I’ve seen you skip meetings to fuck girls in the bathroom of your office. I’ve seen you skate through life like nothing matters, so tell me again how being your wife wouldn’t be so bad?”
His lips twitch into a frown and he takes a long drink. “I understand I haven’t behaved very well—”
“No kidding,” I say sharply, the alcohol and the insanity of this situation loosening my tongue.
“—But I don’t lie to those girls. They’re all consenting adults, even if they’re making the same stupid mistakes that I’m making. They understand what they’re getting involved with.”
“Just like I do.” I stare at him, willing Conlan to see this from my perspective. He’s been nothing but a problem for years, and if he didn’t pay so well I would’ve quit this job a thousand times over.
I need lines. I need barriers. Things between us are blurry enough already—I’m way too involved in his personal life for my comfort—and I don’t want to mix things even worse.
Their plan isn’t bad. It’s shady and unethical, but it’ll probably work.
Only I can’t be a part of it.
He lets out a breath. Some tension in him drains as he finishes his glass and slides it over to the pretty bartender. She brings him back another and gives me a wordless glance like she’s curious about what’s happening, but she doesn’t intrude.
“I understand you have a low opinion of me.” He doesn’t look at me as he speaks. Only feeds a twenty into the gambling machine and starts jabbing at the screen, idly playing video blackjack. “There are few people in the world that know what I’m like more than you do. Maybe even none, if I’m honest.”
“That’s not a good reason to marry me.”
“No, it isn’t. I won’t pretend like this isn’t an enormous ask.”
“You just got done saying it won’t be that bad.”
He grimaces, loses three hands in a row, and turns to me. “I’m trying to say that I’ll respect you. If you do this, you can set the limits, put in place the boundaries, make sure we don’t cross any lines. I don’t want—” He stops himself, tensing for a moment like he’s forcing out the words. “I want you, Isabel.”
I go very still. I want you, Isabel. Hearing my name on his lips like that, it does something to me. A thrill runs down between my legs. My stomach’s a twisty, excited mess. I haven’t felt like this in a very long time, if ever, and it shouldn’t be happening right now.
Not with Conlan.
“I don’t want you,” I say and move to stand.
He puts a hand on my thigh. I go very still, surprised. He doesn’t touch me, never has before, and I never thought he would. But now it seems all the rules are gone.
And I like it. I hate myself a little bit, definitely a solid sense of self-loathing bubbles up from the darkest reaches of my brain, but I like the feeling of his big hand on my leg.
“It has to be you,” he says, tightening his grip. “You’re the only one that could possibly make this work.”
“No shit,” I say, gathering myself, and pull back. He lets me step away this time. “You’re a mess, Conlan. You’ve been a mess for a really long time, and honestly, it’s a miracle you’ve held it together until now. You’ve been inches from disaster and I keep on pulling you back, but not this time. I’m not rescuing you anymore. I’m done, okay? I’m finished.”
I turn to go. I’ll head to the airport, get a flight out to LA that I can’t really afford, but whatever. I can’t stay in this hotel knowing that Conlan wants to marry me, he wants me, because he thinks I’m the only one that can help him right now.