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Lake’s ex left her because of the scar she has on her face, but her husband, Atlas, loves her no matter what. The world considered her ugly, but not to me or Atlas. He swooped in like a knight on a horse and picked up the pieces of her broken heart. Guys like him are as rare as a blue moon.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders, squeezing the life out of me. “Jasper will fall in love with you, he needs time.”
“Jasper wouldn’t know what love is, even if it punched him in the face.”
She pushes the cart to the checkout and we scan the items, placing everything inside the gray bag. “Jasper and you have been through a lot. I’m not giving up on you two, and you shouldn’t either.”
“I can’t give up on something I never had hope for.”
Jasper
I sit next to Poppy as I try not to stare at the yellow dress that is snug around her hips and breasts. She plays with the end of the tablecloth, taps her heels against the wooden floor, then she gulps down her glass of red wine, and she asks the waiter for more. We’re at a restaurant that I own. I bought this restaurant in my early twenties, when I thought I wanted to be a chef. This steak house is one of my very first start-ups. It taught me to be disciplined and to manage a business. Out of all the businesses I own, this is the one I am most proud of. People fly from all over the country to get the best cuisine here.
I straighten my spine as I wait for my grandfather to arrive, so he can finally meet Poppy. I’m hopeful he will like her, because if not, he’s going to persuade me to find another fiancée.
After hearing from Laurent that her ex showed up at work to see her, it made my blood boil. When I asked her where she had been for her lunch break, she lied straight to my face and said she stepped outside for fresh air, when everyone knows that New York City’s air isn’t very fresh. Ever since that day, she’s been distant and hasn’t spoken two words to me. I have no clue what I did to her for her to give me the cold shoulder. I want to ask her what is wrong, but if I do, it’ll make me look like I care. And I don’t want to open that door, where she feels the need to constantly come to me with her problems.
Our relationship is strictly business and I want to keep it that way. It doesn’t surprise me that she lied, because people aren’t trustworthy. She says she doesn’t want him back, but I don’t believe her, otherwise she wouldn’t have lied to me. Lucky, the blogs didn’t catch them on camera, because that would’ve been a mess, one I don’t want to deal with.
I smooth out my gray tie and rest my hands in hers, bringing her knuckles to my mouth to kiss.
I’m annoyed with her, and I don’t want to touch her, but there are too many eyes on us. She blushes and bites down on her lip to keep from smiling. This is all an act. This isn’t real. Something I have to chant to myself over and over again, because being around her and not being able to do the things I want to do to her drives me insane. Personally, I think the no sex rule is stupid, but if she wants to torture us both then I’m all for it. She’ll cave sooner or later.
She freezes when her eyes meet mine, then she reverts them back to her wineglass.
“What if your grandfather doesn’t like me? My greatest fear is being married to someone where their family hates me.”
I tuck a few of her fine hairs behind her ear and swallow thickly, trying to get rid of the flutters in my chest. This woman is the only person I know who makes my dick hard and my heart go haywire at the same time. I don’t like these feelings and it ramps up my anxiety. I want to do nothing more than kiss her soft, plump lips and fuck her like the last time.
“Be yourself and he will like you.”
I don’t do well with dealing with other people’s emotions, and I’m sure my grandfather will like her. She’s down-to-earth, interesting, and can hold a meaningful conversation.
She leans in, whispering in my ear, “Everyone is watching us.”
I grab my crystal glass of scotch, inhale it, and down it before setting the glass on the table. “I’m the owner of this restaurant, Angel.”
Her eyes widen as they zero in on the artwork that’s above our heads. A picture of a cow painted in the fields. It’s very unique and made from oil paint.
Shock colors her facial features. “You own this restaurant? What else do you own?”
I take another sip of my bourbon and rest my arm on the back of the leather seat. “A few other restaurants, a few hotels. And a year from now, I will have my uncle’s business.”
The waiter sets fresh garlic bread on the table and Poppy grabs one and dips it in butter. “Why a year?”
“Because I have to be married for a year to become the owner of the bank.”
She doesn’t respond, so I reach over and press my lips to her forehead. She shutters, and asks, “How did your family get wealthy?”
Is this her way of trying to get to know me? She asks a lot of questions. Why is she asking about my wealth? Does she want to negotiate money? Maybe she’s just curious.
“I’m sure you googled me. To see what my net worth is.”
She frowns, shakes her head, then rests her elbows on the table. “I googled you, but I didn’t look up your net worth. It’s not my business what you make.”
Her words kind of shock me. Most of the women I tend to sleep with often look up how much I’m worth, trying to make sure they are sleeping with an actual billionaire. Every time I think I have Poppy figured out, it turns out I don’t.
I break off a piece of bread to feed her. Her tongue licks my fingertips and blood rushes down south. I readjust my pants. “Why were you googling me?”
