Lose the Pretty Princess act. You aren’t fooling me.” Her eyebrows dipped, and her eyes began to gloss over when I set the ring box down between her legs without her noticing.

The diamond I spent a year trying to find, the vivid blue teardrop diamond that matched her eyes perfectly, was going to have to replace my dick.

And whatever other hopes she had in those baby blues.

EVE

Bowen had defended my honor and didn’t look repulsed when he laid a perfect kiss on my neck that sent chills down my legs.

It didn’t matter if he didn’t want the credit; he got it.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I shouted after him when he flicked the conference room lights off and yanked the door open.

It wasn’t an act; it was trauma and scars making me different.

I had been internally punishing myself for calling him an asshole—the old Eve wouldn’t even think twice. He had deserved it, but now I would deserve my own punishment of purging later.

It was beyond my control now.

It was a part of me as much as he was.

Bowen didn’t respond, only leaving a box between my legs that I didn’t notice until I pushed my thighs back together.

Picking up the velvet, navy blue heart-shaped box, I cracked it open, and my jaw dropped in surprise. It was the most beautiful diamond I had ever seen on a simple platinum setting, letting the diamond shine.

My lip rustled under my teeth as I pushed the ring onto my ring finger and stared down at the frosty colored, yet vivid, blue diamond.

“Eve, let's go,” Bowen’s voice bellowed, cutting off my silent excitement.

Pushing myself off the table, I tucked the ring box in my coat pocket still looking to catch a glimpse of the diamond glimmering against the dim lights.

Silently in the elevator, I stood next to the doors for an easy getaway for when they opened to the garage. “You can’t be both people either. You can’t be the guy who defends me and gives me a ring like this. And be the guy who despises me.”

I’m sure my mind would be spinning if I let myself think things over. I choose to focus on Bowen and ignore the rest; all of that would be in our past once we were married.

I could see his reflection, leaning against the railing, still cavalier. He made no moves to respond when it came to him. He only wanted to interrogate me.

“Fine. We’ll both have a double personality,” I quipped, frustrated this elevator was taking too long.

Once the doors opened, I rushed them, but a firm grip on my wrist yanked me back until the cold metal of the door sunk into my spine. His body was so close, I could feel my senses kickstart and the heat in panties reignite when his warm breath caressed my skin.

My eyes danced around his lips as he spoke, “What exactly happened in Denmark, Eve? Why aren’t you concerned that your own mother called you stock? They would’ve let anyone with a checkbook have you.”

All the heat he stirred up in me faltered when his words started to make sense.

Taking a big swallow, I filtered through all the ways I could lie to him by explaining Denmark wrapped up in a pretty bow—but it wasn’t that easy.

Denmark was too complicated.

Denmark was where killing personalities, breaking souls, and all hope is lost.

Denmark was a nightmare that had ended now that I will become his.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters as long as we get to be together.”

“Until reality sets in. Nothing is ever that easy, Princess.” His body gave mine more space and the solitude felt wrong as he left the elevator.

I didn’t bother to keep up with his long strides. Space was feeling more normal than chasing after him at this point.

My heels stomped the concrete with each step until my fingers grabbed the door handle. Falling down into his lowered, clearly expensive car, I made sure my gaze stayed out the window.

He didn’t deserve the clarity of my baby blues right now.

He can take a long look at the ring instead. The one he clearly picked to match my eyes.

The familiarity of a crack next to me made my eyes shift when I stole a side glance at Bowen tossing back two nips at once. The labels back to back with his mouth open, so willing to catch the buzz, before tossing the empties behind him.

“Seriously? You’re driving.”

“And? I’m a functioning alcoholic. That’s practically water,” his voice was callous as he pushed the button that made the engine roar to life.

“Wouldn’t know. I don’t pretend to know this version of you. You act like you know me after all these years when you don’t.” Sitting back into the leather, I crossed my arms, already annoyed that he never lets me bask in the good moments for long.

Pulling out of the garage, the speed pushed me back against the seat even more when his voice reigned in the adrenaline.

“Oh, I know you better than you want to admit, Princess. I know that it doesn’t matter if I’m behaved or cruel, you still get just as wet.”

Pushing my thighs together even more, I felt myself shutter at his realization that wasn’t helping. My body ached for him in ways that became painful years ago.

I tried to ignore the way my panties felt more uncomfortable and how his words practically licked my sensitive spots all on their own.

I needed to change the topic smoothly in the heavy silence to something that would make my body fall in rank. “So, I have to get a tattoo? Of what and where? Do you have tattoos?”

It was a glorious display of word vomit.

At least

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