Page 82 of Wreck Me

They’ll be packing up their books soon and he’ll offer to take her for a drink or dinner. Well, that’s exactly what I would do, anyway.

I saw the way Shane looked at her at Rian’s opening night. I saw his dilated pupils, watched the way they were repeatedly drawn to her full luscious lips. I didn't need to hear the words he blurted out to know he’s obsessed with her. It was like looking at a mirror image of myself.

An irrational surge of jealousy rips through me.

My office door opens and Amanda Anderson, the PA assigned to me for the week, peeps in. She’s your typical all-American poster pin-up with blonde, bouncing hair, perfect white teeth, and breasts the size of melons.

This time last year, I wouldn't have hesitated to ask her out.

Now, I see straight past her.

I lift a finger to indicate I’m on the phone. She nods and mouths, ‘Lucien Moreau is here.’

Fuck my life.

The Imperial Winery acquisition might be one of the most important deals of my life, but I’m sorely tempted to cancel the meeting and fly home. I glance at my watch. If I left now, I could be back in Ireland before breakfast.

But at what cost?

It’s fucking ironic. The entire arrangement with Scarlett was to save face until I got this business deal over the line, and now I’m contemplating throwing it all down the toiletand destroying my reputation to be with a woman I’m fake dating.

Although there is nothing fake about my feelings for her.

I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.

Between my head and my heart.

Between what’s right, and what feels right.

‘Shane Stenson, sir. His father is–’

‘I know who his fucking father is Tim.’ I cut Tim off before he can continue. ‘Just make sure she goes home to our house, alone. No detours. No drinks. No dinners. I’m on my way.’

‘Yes, sir.’

I hang up and type out another text to Scarlett.

You appear to have forgotten the terms of our arrangement. Looks like I’ll need to remind you.

I stride back to my desk and buzz Amanda to send in Lucien. With any luck, his wife might be in town for their son’s grand opening. Maybe I can gift them my table at the Sapphire Lounge.

As long as he gives a preliminary agreement to the terms of my offer.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

SCARLETT

After a restless night, I wake with a start and pull the bed sheets over my chest. The heat of James’s stare burns through the soft Italian cotton like a laser.

I should probably be creeped out by my fake boyfriend watching me sleep, but there’s something electrifying about it. Like he’s my protector, watching over me.

He’s the first person, other than my mother and Avery, to genuinely care for me. He might not have said as much, but the fact he’s here, and not in New York, speaks volumes.

I thought from his texts last night that I was in trouble but I hadn’t dared to hope he was angry enough to come home early.

Weak traces of sunlight spill through the curtain cracks. I squint my eyes to adjust them to the gloom. James is perched up in the high-backed velvet armchair across the room, wearing an impeccably tailored Armani suit, minus a tie, and an expression that would give the Grim Reaper a run for his money.

His hands clasp together, elbows resting on his thick, parted thighs. His eyes are so dark, they’re almost black.

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