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“My mother?” A humiliating tear escaped.
Jed swiped the salty drop with the thumb of his free hand and dropped it on his tongue, lifting the corner of his mouth. She hated that Jed’s control over her seemed to energize him.
He released her hair, rubbing his hand down her neck before holding two fingers against her pounding pulse. “Your mom’s being moved here as we speak, just as I promised you I’d do if you didn’t obey my instructions. I won’t hurt her—you have my word. She’s my ticket to keep you in line. I’d be a fool not to pamper her, just as I will you if you behave.”
Genevieve relaxed her muscles, letting some of her tension release. She swatted his hand away, hoping he’d had enough of his intimidation tactics for now.
“But since you didn’t, my dove, you will not see Momma Dear again until you’re my wife.”
She sucked in a tense breath.
Jed grinned victoriously at her response, leaning toward her. A kiss to her temple, and he continued, “Now, tell me what’s going on with Brendan King. Will he be causing us any more trouble? Because I’m sure you can imagine what I’ll do to him if he doesn’t turn his Tesla toy around, return to his cozy little office in Aspen, and leave us the hell alone.” Jed curled a fist. “If he dares to interfere again…”
Genevieve touched Jed’s arm in mock-comfort. “It’s not like you think, Jed. He doesn’t know anything about you or this casino.”
“Do you love him?” he asked, his tone dark.
“For goodness’ sake, no. I don’t even know him. We’ve only ever discussed business.”
Jed narrowed his gaze. “Then why did he risk his life speeding down the highway to keep you away from his perceived competition? Why did he book a single king motel room with you?”
“All that was just circumstantial.” Genevieve pretended to wave his concerns away as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Honestly, I think he got a rise out of driving fast to outpace what he thought was some stalker following us. Then I got tired and asked to pull over, and it was the only room left. Nothing’s ever happened between us. We’ve never even kissed.” She held her face even, hoping to bury the lies.
Jed studied her. “If he even runs a finger across your skin, I’ll kill him. You’re mine.”
“He’s not a concern. Mr. King’s not worried about competing for me, and he’s never touched me. He’s just my boss. A standard business guy who was trying to get us to a conference?—”
“Don’t lie to me, Genevieve. I won’t stand for it.”
“I’m not lying. I swear, Jed. He’s just an acquaintance?—”
“Enough,” Jed spat at her, clicking on the TV screen. “I…won’t…be….lied…to. You will treat me with respect from this day forward, and that means all the promises our marriage vows will uphold.”
“We’re not married.”
“We will be.” Jed brushed a possessive finger over her full lower lip, rubbing the now-wet pad of his fingertip across her chin. He leaned down and whispered, “You have a week to prepare for the wedding of your dreams, dove, and then you will marry me and share my bed every night until death do us part.” He pecked a soft kiss on her lips, not trying to force a response, just staking a claim. “Our vows start right now. I should have enforced them the moment we met.” He waggled his finger at her. “No more separate lives between us and no more independence for you. You will love, cherish, and obey me. You will be faithful and honest. Do not tell me again this man is merely an acquaintance, or our wedding moves up to tomorrow, and you’ll wear whatever dress I say.”
Genevieve pushed the threat of the wedding out of her mind and tried to focus on the present. She shivered, braving Jed’s venomously jealous gaze. His gray irises swirled like a blustering F5 tornado, ready to tear up all obstacles in their path. Clearly, he was under the impression that Brendan meant something to her.
The show she’d been trying so hard to avoid, The Race for Riches or Romance: Tangle in the Tropics, popped onto the screen. Of course, she knew deep down there was content on there that would rattle her if she saw it. Why do you think she never turned it on? A scene on the breathtaking Fijian white sand beaches began to play with Brendan and his good friend, Hannah—a conversation she’d not been part of during the show.
Jed’s nostrils flared. “Explain this…” He turned up the volume, and Hannah’s soft voice filled the break room.
“Should we leave now?” Hannah asked as Brendan pulled her to her feet. “The show, I mean?”
“About that.” Blushing, Brendan shuffled his feet in the sand. “Would you be willing to stay for a few days? I just got here, and truthfully, I want some time with Gigi. Hopefully, get to know her better, you know?”
“You’re her boss, Bren,” Hannah scolded with a smile. “She even calls you Mr. King.”
“Yeah, well,” Brendan stammered adorably, “I’ve asked her to call me Brendan, and she insists on Mr. King.”
Hannah arched a questioning eyebrow in his direction.
Brendan sighed in defeat. “I like her. It was completely professional when I hired her. It still is,” he added quickly, looking nervously at the camera, “but I was hoping if Gigi saw me out here, she might see me in a different light. Something other than a CEO super nerd.”
“Weren’t you just talking to me about confidence?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Brendan said, waving Hannah off. “Well, regardless of my healthy bank account, I’m not built like no freaking Andrew Meyers.”
