Page 11 of Princess of Pride
“Do you know the terms your father has proposed?” he asks, pulling me from my ogle-fest of his chest.
“Not the specifics. Do you?” I sweep my long hair over one shoulder and cross one leg over the other, trying to appear like I’m capable of a serious conversation.
His gaze briefly flicks to my high slit and bare thigh. He rubs his jaw again, his eyes back on my face. Clearly, I’m the only one with a staring problem.
“We announce our engagement in one week and have the wedding here in three,” he says.
“Three what…? Months? Years?” I throw out, hopeful.
“Weeks.”
“Weeks! Why the hurry?”
No one forced Pippa down the aisle this quickly. Mom needed enough time to plan a regal event for her first-born daughter, and Hunt thought it looked more realistic if they waited. Dad gave them a deadline. He wanted Hunt’s banker family linked with ours as soon as possible. The ceremony was for publicity and for Mom.
As for me and Lachlan, with my dad not retiring until the end of the year, I thought we could take our time before coming together in public as one.
“Once the contracts are signed, it’s a done deal,” Lachlan says. “There is no point in waiting.”
Right. Because my needs and wishes are moot. I rub my hand along the cool surface of the soap stone counter. “What if I want to finish college first?”
“That’s too long.”
“You don’t even know what I’m studying.”
“Werestudying. You dropped out.”
He knows that too? I huff. “This is unfair.”
“You can continue college now and while we’re married. I don’t care as long as you’re able to travel when necessary to whichever home I’m spending the most time at. We need to look like a loving couple.”
“Why? Why not let people assume the truth? This marriage is an arrangement.”
“My image is important, as I said. The public needs to see this as a solid union on all fronts, not a purchase based on an ultimatum.”
I guess I can understand that. He has the money and status to buy the company. He also has my traditionally archaic dad calling all the shots.
“Why Spencer Securities? Why not a business that has less… baggage?” I use his earlier word.
It takes him a moment to respond. “I have my reasons.” He rubs his neck then his hand lowers to the Celtic tattoo over his firm pec.
My gaze follows the movements like a magnet.Stop it!I clear my throat. “Would you mind putting on a shirt?”Please, please, please put on a shirt.
He glances down as if he forgot he’s on display. “Does thismake you uncomfortable?” He gestures to his bare chest and sexy abs. “I should warn you I often walk around with my shirt off in the mornings and the evenings and after I work out.”
Lucky me. I’ll have to invest in horse blinders to keep my gaze from straying. “You said you move around a lot. Where can I expect to live?”
“I have a place in Manhattan and in the UK. We could get a house here if you’d like. Wherever you want. I don’t really care.”
I nod and twirl a lock of hair around my finger, imagining my life as a series of responses that end with,I don’t really care.
It could be worse. He could be a pig. An egocentric maniac. A liar. I hate liars.
A shadow crosses over me, and I jolt.
Lachlan stands directly in front of me, studying me the way one might look at a Monet, tracing all the colors and patterns individually before taking the painting in as a whole.
“You have an innocent face that makes you look younger than you are.”
