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Chapter Three
Hudson
Scarlett Meriweather—Colton—is not what I expected.
I’m tempted to say she’s from the poorer side of the Meriweather clan, except Bixby wouldn’t bother with what he calls commoners. Even if they’re family. Especially if they’re family. Besides, his mother’s family is Mayflower stock and blood so blue they probably can’t spell poor. Scarlett might be the quirky one. Who knows? I don’t, and I don’t care, as long as she can do it.
And she doesn’t come across as flighty. Which is a plus. Even if she’s on the mouthy side. And probably hungry for more when it comes down to the dollar.
Still, Scarlett’s like a breath of fresh air. One I’m not sure I want, but I’ve got.
For a moment, I wonder if I’m being a complete fucking moron. But it’s too late for that. The idea is in my head, I’ve got the bull by the horns, and I’m not about to let go.
I want this.
I want what’s mine, and this woman is the one who’s going to help me achieve that.
I look her over again, and since now she’s changed, I can definitely see our fake whirlwind relationship and engagement working.
Sure, I’m more than aware I’m cheating the system my father put in place, but he taught each and every one of us that only losers take the hardest path by rote. Instead, he was about finding ways around things, working smarter, being devious.
That’s not about screwing people over. It’s about finding the best way, and sometimes the best way is the hardest. Other times, it’s finding the hidden door and for me, this is it.
I’ve no intention of finding a bride for real, as I know my father. The four weeks mean from now.
It might be worded in a way where I might be fooled into thinking there’s a way to push it back, and I’m going to play hardball in checking that out, but the four weeks are four weeks and if Jenson turns up in three weeks, I’ll guarantee the official documentation will have today’s date on it.
But I’ve got Scarlett.
A secret weapon.
She’s a little rough edged, but that might work in my favor. I’m no Pygmalion, but I don’t want to be. I just want someone who might fit in, and a little unexpected will work.
Listening in at the door and working it all out shows smarts and initiative, which I like. And she’s easy on the eye.
“I’m not a horse.” She narrows her eyes a little.
My mouth twitches. “I didn’t think you were.”
“You’re looking at me like one.”
“A thoroughbred.”
She presses her lips together and folds her hands in front of her. She’s got a lithe body with a delightful swell of slender hips and small but perfect tits. Normally, I like something a little more…visual as I’m not planning on deep conversation or follow-ups unless the sex proves sensational. And even those encounters wane after the fourth or fifth time. Maybe if I was looking for a relationship I’d be interested in taking things further, but then again, apart from me not wanting that, I wouldn’t pick the women I do.
They’re sexy under a layer of class, but most of them I’m not interested in talking to. I don’t have the time.
Scarlett’s definitely not like anything I’ve seen. She doesn’t have the air of entitlement like her brother. And she doesn’t come across a snob or a name dropper or spoiled. I mean, she rides a damn bike in Manhattan for crying out loud. And not a Citi Bike from the outfit she wore, either. She owns the bike.
“Well,” she says, with a nervous laugh, “what do we do now?” She looked at me, an uncertain light in her hazel eyes.
The combination of dark honey hair and warm eyes are a killer, and she has a mouth made for kissing.
“Unless you want to get right to the destruction of me,” she adds.
I probably took things a bit far with the ultimation. I meant every word. But I could have softened it. Just a little.
“If you pull this off and don’t lie to me, then I won’t have to.” I can still feel the heat of her fingers, the soft silk of her skin as I held her hand, something I didn’t mean to do. The attraction is there, unexpected, a small flare of light I can use in this.
