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Her father’s painful rejection had been enough for today. She didn’t want one more.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Fuck.
Bella was staying in Manhattan instead of returning home with him.
It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out why.
Cain fucking Hillford. After shaking hands with Randall Scott—who’d nearly crushed it and got Blake’s fist in the side of his face for his effort—Cain’s had been weak in comparison.
No one likes a weak handshake, bro.
Man up.
Blake had walked around Manhattan for an hour, furious after leaving Bella. He’d gone over and over his reasons for acting so irrationally and come up with only one thing. He didn’t trust her.
Okay, two.
Blake also didn’t trust any other men on the planet to keep their paws off his girl.
My girl?
And after giving himself twenty million lectures about how she wasn’t his girl, and this was a fake marriage and business partnership, sans the great the sex, he’d decided a liquid lunch would solve things.
It hadn’t.
As he cooled off, Blake was racked with guilt over leaving Bella on her own after meeting her father.
Not just that, Bella wasn’t equipped to handle this complex situation and he hadn’t been impressed with her lawyers.
He should have punched Scott’s lights out. But Blake had to be careful. As the asshole had very carefully mentioned, InkWell was in fast decline. Today he’d been there as Bella’s fiancé. Nothing more. But a black eye or a broken nose would be great media fodder for the cunning CEO.
He wanted to see that asshole fall.
Which was why Blake had taken a cab to the Dufort Towers after his liquid lunch and was giving his cousin the lowdown.
