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Nate clutches me, his fingers digging into my back. “You look good,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, sending chills down my arms. “I can see the Pilates paid off.”
I gasp at his comment.
Nate laughs in response.
Damn him.
I hate showing that he has any effect on me. More than anything I wish he didn’t have a single ounce of control over me. But he does.
Nate tugs on a strand of my hair, twirling it around his finger. He did this when we were kids because he thought it was funny when I slapped him. My former best friend was an oddball. And now, he’s doing it to torment me. Men like Nate can smell desire on women. He damn well knows I think he’s hot. Nate looks like a walking orgasm in his expensive, silky suit that was tailor-made for him. Everything about him screams sex and money.
“Let’s get started,” my dad says, snapping me back to reality.
I flick Nate’s finger, and he drops his hand to his side. He stares me down with his hauntingly beautiful eyes. When I turn my back to Nate, Stefan is still standing behind the chair he rolled out from the table for me.
Nate sits across from me, though no amount of space is enough because I can practically feel the heat from his gaze rolling down my arms. Our parents get comfortable at the heads of the table, my dad to my left and Richard on the right. Nate’s wingtip hits my heel under the table. I ignore him as he taps me again. A few seconds later, his silky dress sock slides up my calf. I stare across the table at him, and he challenges me with one look.
Do it, his eyes demand. Fight me, Queen.
I hold my breath when his foot grazes my inner thigh. His gaze is pointed down the table at my dad, but I don’t miss the corner of Nate’s mouth lifting slightly into a satisfied smirk. He wants to play with me.
Game on, King.
I kick off my heel and slide my bare foot up his thigh. The fabric is so smooth it feels amazing against my skin. A true poker player, Nate doesn’t lose his focus. He spreads his legs for me, his face unreadable, though I don’t miss the slight hitch in his breath. His heart is pounding with the pulse in his neck, racing as fast as mine. He gets off on the little games we play. We both do.
He clears his throat, attempting to sit straighter when I move my foot higher. I have him right where I want him. The ball is now in my court, King. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten Nate excited in the middle of a meeting. Because this isn’t the first time he started this game. He damn well knows I won’t turn down a challenge.
“That’s why we need you,” my dad says. “Harley, did you hear anything I just said?”
“Huh?” I mutter, sounding more like a moan.
All of their eyes are on me. Shit! Did they notice?
I look across the table at Nate, who’s now fixing himself under the table, unable to meet my gaze.
“Harley,” my dad says.
I snap my head in his direction. “Yeah. What did I miss?”
My dad’s face turns a bright shade of red as he leans back in his chair. He crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at me. “We can salvage the Titan Tech deal.”
I raise a curious eyebrow. “How?”
“You have to marry Nate.”
My jaw hits the floor.
Time passes, though I’m not sure how much, before my dad says, “Did you hear me, Harley? What is your problem this morning?”
“It’s probably the time difference,” Richard says. “Give her a second to process everything.”
Shaking my head, I slide my foot back into my pump and roll my chair back from the table. “I am not marrying Nate. How could you even suggest something like this?”
“You look like the woman in the pictures.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Like Nate would ever date someone like me.
“Pick a blonde, any blonde. I’m sure you can find someone else who looks like the woman in the pictures. Or better yet, why doesn’t Nate ask the real woman to play house with him?”
The fire behind Nate’s gaze pricks my skin. “That’s not an option.”
“I’m sure you can pay one of your whores to pretend to be your wife until after the deal goes through.”
“This wasn’t my idea,” Nate says in his defense. “I don’t want this either.”
Turning toward my father, I grind my teeth. “How could you, Dad? I’ve done everything you have ever asked of me. But not this. No, I can’t…”
“Harley, please,” my dad pleads. “Just hear us out.”
“First, you insult me with that bullshit promotion, and now this? You want to whore out your only daughter? You’re a real class act.” I jump to my feet, my heart pounding so hard I think I might pass out. “I wasn’t one of those little girls who imagined her wedding,” I shout at my dad as I storm away from the conference table, “but I still want to choose who I marry. And it won’t be Nate.”
