"It’s what I’d expect."
"Why is that?"
I wave the tissue in front of her face. "Why do you think?"
"You own the place?"
"As I am going to own you."
She sets her jaw. "Let me leave and you won't regret this."
A chuckle bubbles up. I swallow it away. This is no laughing matter. I never smile during a transaction. Especially not when I am negotiating a new acquisition. And that’s all she is. The final piece in the puzzle I am building.
"No one threatens me."
"You’re right."
"Huh?"
"I’d rather act on my instinct."
Her lips twist, her gaze narrows. All of my senses scream a warning.
No, she wouldn’t, no way—pain slices through my middle and sparks explode behind my eyes.
Read Sinclair and Summer’s enemies to lovers, marriage of convenience romance in The Billionaire’s Fake Wife here
read Liam and Isla’s fake relationship romance in The Proposal where Tiny first makes an appearance, click here
Read an excerpt from the proposal
Liam
"Where is she?"
The receptionist gazes at me cow-eyed. Her lips move, but no words emerge. She clears her throat, glances sideways at the door to the side and behind her, then back at me.
"So, I take it she’s in there?" I brush past her, and she jumps to her feet. "Sir, y-y-you can’t go in there."
"Watch me." I glare at her.
She stammers, then gulps. Sweat beads her forehead. She shuffles back, and I stalk past her.
Really, is there no one who can stand up to me? All of this scraping of chairs and fawning over me? It’s enough to drive a man to boredom. I need a challenge. So, when my ex-wife-to-be texted me to say she was calling off our wedding, I was pissed. But when she let it slip that her wedding planner was right—that she needs to marry for love, and not for some family obligation, rage gripped me. I squeezed my phone so hard the screen cracked. I almost hurled the device across the room. When I got a hold of myself, for the first time in a long time, a shiver of something like excitement passed through me. Finally, fuck.
That familiar pulse of adrenaline pulses through my veins. It’s a sensation I was familiar with in the early days of building my business.
After my father died and I took charge of the group of companies he’d run, I was filled with a sense of purpose; a one-directional focus to prove myself and nurture his legacy. To make my group of companies the leader, in its own right. To make so much money and amass so much power, I’d be a force to be reckoned with.
I tackled each business meeting with a zeal that none of my opponents were able to withstand. But with each passing year—as I crossed the benchmarks I’d set myself, as my bottom line grew healthier, my cash reserves engorged, and the people working for me began treating me with the kind of respect normally reserved for larger-than-life icons—some of that enthusiasm waned. Oh, I still wake up ready to give my best to my job every day, but the zest that once fired me up faded, leaving a sense of purposelessness behind.
The one thing that has kept me going is to lock down my legacy. To ensure the business I’ve built will finally be transferred to my name. For which my father informed me I would need to marry. Which is why, after much research, I tracked down Lila Kumar, wooed her, and proposed to her. And then, her meddling wedding planner came along and turned all of my plans upside down.
Now, that same sense of purpose grips me. That laser focus I’ve been lacking envelops me and fills my being. All of my senses sharpen as I shove the door of her office open and stalk in.
The scent envelops me first. The lush notes of violets and peaches. Evocative and fruity. Complex, yet with a core of mystery that begs to be unraveled. Huh? I’m not the kind to be affected by the scent of a woman, but this... Her scent... It’s always chafed at my nerve endings. The hair on my forearms straightens.
My guts tie themselves up in knots, and my heart pounds in my chest. It’s not comfortable. The kind of feeling I got the first time I went white-water rafting. A combination of nervousness and excitement as I faced my first rapids. A sensation that had since ebbed. One I’d been chasing ever since, pushing myself to take on extreme sports. One I hadn’t thought I’d find in the office of a wedding planner.