Fake Empire(14)

My head.

My heart.

I’m tempted to give in. Very tempted. Anticipation and arousal are tangible in the air. I want to know how he kisses. How he tastes. How far he would take this—me and him in a library with our families waiting downstairs.

But I hold firm. “No.”

His gaze flashes. Waves crash. Clouds form. He doesn’t like being told what to do. Too damn bad—he’d better get used to it. “You’re bought and paid for, baby.”

Misogynistic asshole. “With money you didn’t earn—just like you didn’t earn me. Don’t act like I had a choice in this and you didn’t. We may be in this together, but I’m not yours, Crew. I never will be.”

His hand tightens its grip just above my hip, the fingers curling possessively and pressing into my skin. It makes me want to jerk away…and press closer. “We’re getting married, Scarlett. It’s a done deal.”

“We’ll see.” My tone is lofty, almost bored.

I have just as much power here as he does—maybe more. The prenup will only take effect if we divorce. Once we’re married, our substantial assets will be combined. He’ll be richer than his own father. I’m gaining a lot from this agreement, but he’s getting more. No one will look at me and think of how much wealth I’m accumulating. They’ll look at the ring on my finger and whisper my new last name with envy—not respect. In their eyes, I’m a clause in a merger. A bonus, not an equal. It’s how our world works, and I’ll never change anyone’s opinion.

Except his.

I have power here, and I refuse to cede any of it. If he wants to kiss me, wants sex from me—wants anything at all from me—he’ll have to work for it.

I watch him realize it. Battle it. Annoyance, then acceptance settles on his face. He’s too proud to beg.

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a willing participant if you’re that desperate,” I taunt.

Danger dances in his blue eyes. I watch his brow smooth and his jaw tighten. “Careful, darling. That sounded an awful lot like a compliment.”

I grit my teeth. He’s right; it was one. As much as I would love to claim he holds no appeal, he does. Denying it will only look worse.

Crew moves even closer. I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze, which I know was a purposeful move on his part. My heart pounds out a steady staccato that feels like a live presence between us.

I’m annoyed with him. I’m also enthralled. Aroused.

The push and pull between us is electrifying.

Addictive.

His hand skims my collarbone, then drops to his side. He’s not touching me anywhere, but it feels like he’s touching me everywhere. “You want me, Scarlett. You just won’t admit it. I’ll find someone willing. Fuck her. And when you’re willing? When you want me? When you’re wet for me, just like you are now?” The soft, hypnotic rasp of his low words emphasizes each syllable.

My expression stays indifferent. Inside, I’m hanging on to each word like it’s a cliff I’ll fall off otherwise.

Crew shakes his head, a mocking, harsh smile spreading across his handsome face. “Baby, you’ll have to beg me for it.”

“I won’t.” My voice is confident. My body is much less so.

Crew chuckles, dark and ominous and enticing. “Wanna bet?” His breath skates across my cheek.

“I’ll never.”

“Forever is a long time, Scarlett.” He drops his hand from my waist and strolls out of the library, as if he did nothing more than hand me a ring.





Dinner is underwhelming.

It probably would have been regardless, but it’s especially uneventful in the wake of the scene in the library. I’m used to men backing down from me. I’m brash and opinionated and, in most people’s minds, not worth the trouble.

I figured shooting Crew down would be no different. He would move on to a socialite or a model, and that would be that. I didn’t expect an ultimatum. Consequences. And it wouldn’t matter, if not for the fact that he was right. I owe him nothing—but I want to kiss him.

The possibility of that not happening—not until I beg, which I won’t—is not a pleasing one.

I’m seated directly across from Oliver, who has spent the past twenty minutes running one finger around the rim of his glass of cognac, trying very hard to impress my father. He’s mentioned his law degree no less than twenty times and has cycled through a reel of obviously prepared topics that have ranged from international relations with China to the stock market.

I can see why Arthur sends Oliver out like a golf-playing show pony to every potential investor. My father is definitely intrigued by his perfect son act as Oliver touts Kensington Consolidated’s many successes.

Kensington Consolidated has never been a direct competitor of my family’s company, Ellsworth Enterprises, but business is business. And Hanson Ellsworth never turns down an opportunity to talk business. Not to mention, my father has a new stake in the Kensingtons’ substantial assets: me.

I’m bored out of my mind, picking at the filet mignon while Oliver and my father make polite conversation. My mother and Candace are discussing the wedding, which is an equally unappealing topic.

And my fiancé is flirting with one of the female servers. I chime in on the stock market discussion simply to make it clear it doesn’t bother me Crew couldn’t even wait until the end of dinner to find someone willing.