Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“We hadn’t had sex since the miscarriage. I didn’t want to lead her on, but she begged me to take her away for the weekend. Said it would help her mentally. I’d been drinking, and one thing led to another. I swear I used a condom.”
Oh fuck. “Tell me you didn’t get her pregnant again.”
“I went to call off the wedding a week ago, but before I could, she told me she was pregnant. I went with her to the doctor yesterday, and he confirmed it.”
“Shit, man.”
“Yeah. I looked it up. You know a woman can only get pregnant, like, three days a month?”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he repeats. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence she begged me to go away that weekend. Said she was feeling low and needed to get away. I felt bad, so I took her away. We ended up at a tiki bar, both of us shit-faced, and I fucked up. I gave in and had sex with her. But here’s the thing: even as drunk as I was, I know I used protection, Julian. I wouldn’t risk that shit happening again.”
“You think she trapped you?”
Holy fuck, this chick is crazier than I thought.
“Doesn’t fucking matter now,” Ryder says. “She’s pregnant with my baby, and the wedding is in a couple of weeks.”
“Are you sure it’s yours?” I question.
“I won’t find out for another few weeks. I considered postponing the wedding until the paternity test could be done, but that will create a fucking mess, so I’m just going along with it, and if it turns out this baby isn’t mine, I’m kicking Nora out on her ass.”
I pour him another two fingers of scotch, and he throws it back and stands.
“Do me a favor and keep this between us,” he says before he opens the door.
“Of course,” I tell him. “And for what it’s worth, you’ll be a damn good dad.”
“Thanks.”
I spend the next couple of hours working on my pitch, and when my alarm goes off, indicating that I need to go so I can be home before the guys arrive, I shut everything down and take off.
“Did you see that?” Tim yells. “That was clearly a fucking strike! That umpire is a joke!”
He takes a swig of his beer, and I chuckle at how worked up he gets. Like most of the male species, I enjoy sports, but unlike Tim, I don’t take them as seriously as he does.
“How much you gonna lose?” I ask, scooping a chip into the queso dip I made.
“Enough,” Tim grunts.
He looks like he’s about to say something else, but his words are halted as my fake fiancée saunters through the house. She’s dressed in a sexy royal-blue dress that wraps around her body, the front dipping just low enough to show off her perky breasts. Her hair is up in some kind of knot, putting her slim neck on display, and she’s sporting tall black heels with the signature red soles that somehow make her legs look even longer and more toned. Images of her wrapping her legs around my neck while I devour her pussy surface, but I quickly force them away before I end up hard right in front of the guys.
When Anastasia notices that she’s attracted the attention of five guys, she stops in her place and stares back momentarily, like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes settle on me, and at first, I’m confused as to why she’s looking like she needs my help—until I remember that aside from Ryder, everyone thinks we’re really engaged and in love.
“Hey, Red,” I say, standing and walking over to her. I lean in and give her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth and try like hell to ignore the way her floral, fruity scent affects me. “How was your day?” I murmur loud enough that everyone can hear me playing the doting fiancé, but soft enough that it looks like I’m being sweet and not playing a part.
“Good,” she rasps. “You?”
I hold back my chuckle at how badly she sucks at this. I’m not saying I’m an expert at relationships by any means, but at least I don’t look like someone’s holding me at gunpoint.
“Good,” I parrot. “I’m sure you’ve met most of the guys, but let me introduce you, just in case.” I slide my arm around her waist and pull her into my side as I walk her into the living room.
“Ryder Du Ponte …”
“CFO,” she finishes. “Tim Thorne, CTO,” she says next, obviously having done her research. “Evan Sanchez, CMO.” She plasters on a fake smile. “And my dear fiancé, the COO. Looks like the boys’ club is together. The only one missing is my father …”
“Oh, he doesn’t join us anymore,” Tim says, not catching on to her sarcasm. “He’s been MIA ever since he met Selene.”