Weston seemed to sense this, and he gave me a minute before going on.
“The wedding is in two and a half months,” he said eventually. “After we’ve been married a month or so, we’ll get an annulment, we’ll buy the advertising subsidiary, and Reach, Inc. will automatically move up a couple ranks in terms of competitive power. We’re still a young company. This kind of merger is important for us.”
I leaned back into the seat and sighed. It wasn’t the kind of business move that I’d necessarily pursue, but I wasn’t an aggressive player. Which was why I preferred marketing to sales and operations. It didn’t mean I didn’t recognize the benefit of a merger such as the one Weston was proposing.
“I get it. I do.” I sprung up from my seat. “But why did it have to be you? Couldn’t it be someone else? Didn’t she have a boyfriend or someone else she could marry to get her fortune?” Why did she have to take my boyfriend?
Not that Weston was my boyfriend. Just.
I was bitter. I couldn’t help it.
“No boyfriends. The girl’s a real piece of work. I don’t think she even has friends. She’s kind of…” He rubbed his forehead, seeming to search for the word he was looking for. “A spoiled brat.”
Somehow I had a feeling that wasn’t what he’d first intended to say. “That sounds fun. Are you sleeping with her?”
His eyes widened only slightly. “No, I’m not.”
“I’m sorry.” I hung my head, ashamed of the question. “That wasn’t any of my business.”
“No. It’s fair.”
Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I cared. So what if Weston was sleeping with her? The only reason it bothered me was because it meant he wasn’t available to be my armor. I needed a relationship with him so I could stay safe from my thoughts and my feelings. Especially now.
I paced along the window. “If this is all just to get her inheritance, why don’t you go to the courthouse? Why an engagement? Why a party?”
“Believe it or not, her inheritance forbids elopement. And Elizabeth has a cousin on the board of Dyson Media who is ready to contest anything to stop her from getting control of the company before her twenty-ninth birthday. So. We have to make it real.”
His tone of voice said the situation was making him miserable. I threw him a bone. “That sounds terrible.”
“It is. Thank you!”
“But not too terrible.” I faced him, sternly. “You still chose this. I’m guessing you weren’t forced into this. I don’t feel too bad for you, Weston.”
“You’re right. And I accept my fate.”
I wanted to keep scolding him, but it was hard when he was taking his blows so willingly. And he was my boss. My new boss. There was probably a line that I didn’t want to cross. Somewhere. Hell if I knew where it was at this point.
I pivoted and walked along the window, and the view made me think of Donovan. “What did…everyone else think of this plan?” Why it mattered, I didn’t know.
“Who? You mean Donovan and Nate? Those guys?” He waited until I nodded. “It was Donovan’s idea. Everyone else thought it was awesome, though I think they’re taking bets on how long I can last without getting laid.”
I snapped my head toward him. “You’re not—? With anyone?”
“What did you say about a true professional always being on show?”
Weston King not getting laid was huge news. That man had a voracious sexual appetite. I knew from experience.
And now he looked truly miserable. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
I leaned my back against the glass. “How many people know about this?”
“Just the guys. Elizabeth, of course. And, now, you.” He said you preciously, tenderly, and I realized how much trust it took for him to let me in on his secret.
“Well. Thank you for telling me.”
“I had to. I couldn’t let you think I wasn’t interested anymore.” He took a few steps, and then he was right in front of me. Carefully, he ran a hand along my upper arm. “I should have told you before you got here, but I was afraid you wouldn’t have come.”
His touch felt wrong, his fingers cold on my skin, but I didn’t pull away. “I didn’t take this job because I thought something was going to happen between us, Weston. I did wonder where things would go, but it wasn’t a condition of my acceptance.”
“Good. I’m glad about that.” He used his other hand to tip my chin up to look him in the eyes. “Does that mean in the future, when I’m single again, there might be a chance?”
I did the mental math. He’d said two and a half months until the wedding, another month or so before he was free. “I can’t wait for you. Are you asking me to wait for you?”
“No. That’s not fair. I’m just saying that if you’re still available…”
“Then we’ll see what happens, I guess.” With my track record, I’d still be single in five months. Then, we’d see. “Meanwhile, you are engaged. Whether it’s real or not, and I can’t be doing…this.”
“Doing what?”
I looked down at his hands that were now both on my shoulders. “This. Letting you touch me. You have to stop.”
“I know.” He dropped his hands to his sides and took a step back. “I’m sorry, Sabrina. About all of this. But I am glad you’re here.”
It sounded believable enough, but the offer paid so well, and he’d gone to a lot of trouble to bring me to New York. Had it really just been to give me a job?
I cocked my head. “Tell me something—when did you decide to hire me? What was the timeline of all of this?”
He leaned a shoulder against the glass. “I started working on hiring you the minute you left town. I didn’t know what might happen between us, but I knew you belonged here. It seemed like fate that we were losing our director of marketing anyway. There was just a delay with his transfer. Then all of this Dyson bullshit delayed things further.”
So Weston had already planned to hire me before he decided to marry someone else. At Donovan’s suggestion. Had Donovan known Weston wanted to hire me?
It was stupid to wonder if there was a connection between the two, but still I had to know. “When did you tell Donovan you wanted to hire me?”
My skin began to tingle before he even answered.
“I called him the minute you walked out my door.”
I was glad I still had some scotch in my glass. I finished it off in one gulp. But the sweet burn couldn’t consume the seemingly obvious truth—that even though it had been Weston who got me here, it had been Donovan who had made sure I’d been single when I arrived.
Eleven
Roxie grabbed two flutes of champagne off a tray as it passed by and handed me one. “You’ve had a lot thrown at you this week. It’s a shame you have to be here on a weekend night.”
Since my initial meeting at Reach on Tuesday, I’d spent the rest of the week coordinating with HR, getting acquainted with the corporation’s operations, and setting up my office. I’d barely seen Weston. I hadn’t seen Donovan at all.
Now I was dressed to the nines in a long green satin slip dress that clung to every curve of my body, my hair pinned loosely at my nape, hiding in a corner at The Sky Launch so I could attend Weston’s engagement party. Not at all how I’d expected to spend my first Saturday in New York.
“It’s not that bad,” I said, lying through my teeth. The party, Weston had told me, had been pulled together without much notice, yet there still seemed to be four to five hundred people spread across the dance floor of the rented nightclub. I supposed that’s what it was like to be part of the rich and elite—popularity was part of the package.
Honestly, there were so many guests my attendance would probably have gone unnoticed. I wasn’t sure why I’d come.
Yes, I was.
Because Donovan would notice if I didn’t come, and I didn’t want him thinking I was avoiding the event. I didn’t want him to assume Weston’s upcoming wedding meant something to me, that I was hurt or nursi
ng wounds. I wasn’t. I was there to prove a point, and I didn’t plan on leaving until I did.
Not that Donovan had bothered to show up.
Maybe the whole thing was a waste of time after all.
I took a swallow from my champagne glass and tried not to think about how the green of my dress perfectly matched the green of his eyes.
“Are you ready for Monday?” Roxie asked.
“I think so.” I’d been poring over the project files in all my spare time at home so I’d be prepared, barely sleeping. The movers had unpacked most of my belongings, but I hadn’t touched any of the personal items that I’d asked them to leave for me. “I’ve made sure I’m up to date on everything the team is working on.”
“Be careful you don’t burn out before you even start,” Roxie warned in her brusque Eastern European way.
“I won’t. Mom.” I was teasing, but I hoped she could tell I appreciated it. Not only because she was one of the only people I knew in the city, but also because it had been so long since I’d had anyone mother me. It was a nice change after all the years of raising my little sister.
She smiled and glanced over at her husband who was waiting a few feet away. After downing the rest of her drink in three long gulps, she said, “Frank hate these things. I would stay longer if he didn’t nag me to go. You be okay?” She seemed genuinely concerned about leaving me alone.
“Yes. I’m fine. I promise.” I could see her husband tapping his foot impatiently. “I’m just going to wish the couple well, and then I’m going too.”
It took a bit more reassurance, but finally I convinced her I’d be all right by myself.
After she left, I realized that standing in the corner felt more awkward alone. I looked around the nightclub. There was music playing, but it wasn’t the kind for dancing. All the guests were standing around in groups talking and munching on fancy appetizers. I didn’t recognize anyone. The few people I’d met at the office had already said hello and left. It was getting late, and Donovan still hadn’t arrived. There was no point in my sticking around. Either I needed to seek out Weston and give him my well wishes—the thought made me groan inwardly—or else I just needed to go.
I sighed and finished my drink. Then I placed it on a tray as a waiter walked past, and that’s when I felt it—felt him. Donovan. I didn’t turn around, but I could tell he was close behind me. I knew it as sure as I knew anything. His presence was as heavy and thick as molasses, and any intention I had of leaving was immediately thrown out the window. It would be impossible to leave now. I couldn’t wade through molasses in these heels.
But where was he? What was he waiting for?
Seconds passed by like hours, and finally he came up next to me, leaving no more than three inches, two maybe, between our shoulders. “The way that dress fits you…” he said, his voice husky. “I see now why Weston hired you.”
The grit in his tone felt like the perfect pumice stone, smoothing edges of me that had been rough for as long as I could remember.
But his actual words were a slap in the face.
Another fucking dig at my qualifications. As if the only reason I deserved to be at Reach was because I looked good in an evening gown.
And then there was the other reason his statement was problematic. Because it was wrong, and—even though it did things to my insides when he’d said it, made my belly tighten deep and low—I couldn’t let it slide by without addressing it. Once upon a time I would have let rich boys get away with shit like that. I had let rich boys get away with much worse. Not anymore.
I spun to face him, to tell him off and felt the wind slammed out of my lungs. He was so damn handsome in his tuxedo with satin lapels, his bow tie sharp and centered, his face still dusted with scruff. I nearly forgot what I was going to say.
I dragged my focus up from the tempting curve of his lips to his eyes, which were more green than brown tonight, and swallowed. “I’m not sure if you meant that as a compliment, but I am sure it’s sexual harassment.”
Donovan’s mouth lifted into a slow grin. “Oh, but sexual harassment used to be our thing.”
The acknowledgement of the past we’d shared knocked me off-balance. Made me dizzy. I hadn’t expected it, and it was a point for him in a game I wasn’t even sure how to play.
It was, on the other hand, the opening I needed to say the things—all the things, any of the things—if I could just figure out which to lead with. If I could just figure out how to speak at all.
But before I could manage to stop gaping like an idiot, Donovan leaned close and said quietly, “Close your mouth, Sabrina. Though I love imagining ways to fill it, we’re about to have company.” He straightened. Louder, he said, “Weston, Elizabeth. The stars of the show.”
My jaw clamped shut, my cheeks reddening as if I were harboring a flame inside my mouth.
In a daze, I twisted to find Weston with his arm wrapped around a young redhead with bright eyes and a big smile.
“Elizabeth, you know Donovan,” he said formally. “And this is Sabrina Lind, our new director of marketing strategy.”
“Delightful to meet you.” She nodded to me while Weston glanced covertly around us. “It’s so fascinating to see how my love—”
Seeming to be satisfied with what he saw, he cut her off. “No one’s watching. And Sabrina knows.”
“Oh thank god.” Elizabeth Dyson dropped Weston’s arm. “If I have to gush about him a minute longer I might have to throw up.”
Donovan gazed admiringly at the bride-to-be. “Elizabeth, I think you and I might get along better than I once thought.”
So it appeared the newly engaged pair weren’t getting on so smashingly. Even still ruffled, I found this amusing. Just desserts.
Okay, maybe I was a little bitter.
“I told you, Kincaid, this deal was really better suited for you and me. I can’t believe you turned down the offer.” Elizabeth flirted openly with Donovan, seeming not to notice Weston’s exaggerated roll of the eyes.
“You were up for the nomination of groom?” I couldn’t meet Donovan’s eyes as I asked, and I found myself looking down, which wasn’t helpful because I ended up glancing toward his crotch.
Quickly, I looked back at Weston. Then at Elizabeth in case looking at Weston made it seem like I was pining for Weston. Then at my shoes in case it looked like I was trying too hard when I looked at her and because I didn’t want anyone to see how I reacted to Donovan’s response to my question.
I’d second-guessed myself several times in the last few days about the revelation that he had arranged the whole fake marriage and whether or not it had anything to do with me. It was easier on my nerves to think I was being ridiculous, but if it didn’t have anything to do with me, then why hadn’t he volunteered to play the part himself?
“No one would ever believe I’d get married,” he said dismissively. “Besides, Weston looks much better on Elizabeth’s arm.”
I looked up to see Weston shoot daggers in Donovan’s general direction. Then, with an overly bright smile, he addressed me. “Sabrina, you’re absolutely stunning.”
“Thank you.” I eyed Donovan, indicating how a compliment was supposed to be given and caught him eyeing me with what I guessed was supposed to say See, what I mean?
Elizabeth surveyed me from head to toe and nodded approvingly. “She is gorgeous, Kincaid. You make quite an attractive couple.”
“We’re not a couple,” I said quickly at the same time that Weston said, “They’re not a couple.”
Weston and I exchanged glances. I knew what it looked like—like we were still holding out for each other, and maybe that’s why he’d rushed to clarify I wasn’t with Donovan, but it hadn’t been why I’d rushed to clarify.
I’d rushed because there was no way, no how, I could get mixed up with Donovan again. Not now. Not ever.
“You’re here alone?” Elizabeth asked Donovan, her eyebrow raised in surprise.
“I’m not.”
&
nbsp; My muscles tensed in…what? Like hell I was jealous. But I was something. It hadn’t occurred to me that Donovan would have a date. He might even have a girlfriend. Or a fiancée of his own. And if any of that were the case, why was he playing around with me? But why had he ever played around with me?
I was confused. That’s what I was. And irritated.
“Sabrina is from Weston’s stable,” Donovan said next, and then I was also pissed.
“You are a fucking asshole.” Weston scowled.
I was too shocked to say anything. He couldn’t really mean what I thought he meant. Could he?
“Ah,” Elizabeth said, understanding clearly. “Recent?”
“The most recent, I believe. Last significant girl he spent any time with before you, anyway.”
He did mean what I thought he meant.
Jesus Christ.
Referring to Weston’s girlfriends as horses was not only misogynistic and demeaning, it was also just plain shitty.
“Huh.” Elizabeth looked from Weston to me. Looked at the way Weston looked at me. “I might want in on that pool after all. What were the terms?”
Weston ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to fuck around.”
His date—the probable cause for his messed-up style—winked at Donovan. “We’ll talk later.”
“Fuck off,” Weston muttered, doing another scan around the room. “People are watching us. Better play cozy.” Without looking at her, he took her hand. “Is it you who wants to fuck around? Is that why you keep bringing up concerns about me?”
She rolled her eyes, but something in her expression had tightened. “It was just a joke. You’re so sensitive about everything I say.”
“Everything you say is a criticism.”
“Everything you do is stupid.”
Weston swung his head toward her. “Anyone told you lately you’re a bitch?”
Dirty Filthy Rich Men Page 10