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But it has to be.
I have to make it be enough if I want my share of the empire.
In all honesty, I’m not going to meet anyone on that list or the new back-up one Luc created that’s going to blow my mind, so I might as well just pick the girl who’s the closest fit, whether I like her or not. A contract is a contract, and all I need from her is a year of our lives. That is all. There are no more expectations from me other than to give her the two million she’ll receive for becoming my wife.
I think I’ve been making things harder than what they really are because of River. Because I can’t get her out of my head. Because… touching and tasting her felt great, and it’s been like some forbidden fantasy having my ex-girlfriend in my life again.
Now I need to stop messing around and get serious.
That means I definitely can’t meet River tonight. I already considered not seeing her, but I hadn’t officially decided until just now.
“That will be fine.” I nod.
“Great. I look forward to meeting your wife-to-be.” Grandfather smiles and points his cigar at me.
I guess last night was my official goodbye.
Goodbye, River. I really am sorry.
For everything.
ChapterThirteen
River
Dad takes a sip of his beer and wrinkles his nose as he watches Bastian and Tobias Grayson on TV.
The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes deepen, and he shakes his head with disgust, allowing the ends of his gray hair to brush against his shoulders.
“I wish the whole lot of them would burn in hell.” His tone is more venomous than the poison from a snake bite. “Every last man by the surname of Grayson,” he sneers, not caring if the men he’s cursing are related to the Graysons in New York or not. He loathes anyone with the Grayson surname that much.
He mutters something more I can’t hear, and I watch him wondering how enraged he’d be if he knew I not only saw Jericho again, but he bought me in an auction, then rejected me quicker than you would a two-dollar whore.
Every time I think of last night, I feel sick to my stomach.
Dad and I are in the living room of his ground-floor condo. We just had dinner and settled in here to watch some TV before I leave.
I was hoping to watch a movie with him, but he switched the TV to the news channel before I could even suggest the idea.
He’s been watching the news special showing Bastian Grayson with his father in the background. Bastian is issuing a public apology for his behavior with Lana Jamison. The footage is from last week, before Bastian apparently went to Hong Kong.
I haven’t been following the story, but I know there was very little Teddy Jamison could do to Bastian because his daughter was seventeen, the age of consent in this state. The other day, though, Teddy got on national TV to condemn Bastian Grayson and let the world know that people like him are poor excuses for human beings. He also promised that he wasn’t going to let anything slide because his daughter is seventeen.
No one knows what that means yet, but I’m sure that’s one reason why one of New York’s most eligible bachelors now lives and works in Hong Kong.
I, of course, had my own Grayson problem to deal with, and I’m not sure if I still have same said problem, as I haven’t heard from Jericho yet today.
After last night, I’m not sure I will, and if I see him tonight for date number two, I don’t know what the hell kind of atmosphere I’ll be walking into.
What do we say to each other or do after such a wild and reckless encounter?
I, for one, have no idea how I’m supposed to face him.
Embarrassment and hurt feel like meager words to describe how I felt as he rejected me. Then I realized I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at myself.
I was practically naked in his arms. I allowed him to eat me out, and I came on his face, then I wanted more.
I wanted him. How stupid can one person be?
