Page 182 of The Wrong Husband

I blink. "Excuse me?"

She leans back in her chair. "I’m not going to do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Are you the right choice for her?

"Of course, I am." I glare at her.

Some of the color fades from her cheeks. She taps her pen on the table, then juts out her chin. "What makes you think you’re the right choice of husband for her?"

"What makes you think I’m not."

"Do you love her?"

"That’s no one’s problem except mine and hers."

"You don’t love her."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Excuse me?" She pushes the glasses further up her nose. "Are you seriously asking what loving the woman you’re going to marry has to do with actually marrying her?" Her voice pulses with fury.

"Yes, exactly. Why don’t you explain it to me?" The sarcasm in my tone is impossible to miss.

She stares at me from behind those large glasses that should make her look owlish and studious, but only add an edge of what I can only describe as quirky-sexiness. The few times I’ve met her before, she’s gotten on my nerves so much, I couldn’t wait to get the hell away from her. Now, giving her the full benefit of my attention, I realize, she’s actually quite striking. And the addition of those spectacles? Fuck me—I never thought I had a weakness for women wearing glasses. Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe it’s specifically this woman wearing glasses… Preferably only glasses and nothing else.

Hmm. Interesting.This reaction to her. It’s unwarranted and not something I planned for. I widen my stance, mainly to accommodate the thickness between my legs. An inconvenience… which perhaps I can use to my benefit? I drag my thumb under my lower lip.

Her gaze drops to my mouth, and if I’m not mistaken, her breath hitches.Very interesting.Has she always reacted to me like that in the past? Nope, I would’ve noticed. We’ve always tried to have as little as possible to do with each other. Like I said, interesting. And unusual.

"First," —she drums her fingers on the table— "are you going to answer my question?"

I tilt my head, the makings of an idea buzzing through my synapses. I need a little time to flesh things out though. It’s the only reason I deign to answer her question which, let’s face it, I have no obligation to respond to. But for the moment, it’s in my interest to humor her and buy myself a little time.

"Lila and I are well-matched in every way. We come from good families?—"

"You mean rich families?"

"That, too. Our families move in the same circles."

"Don’t you mean boring country clubs?" she says in a voice that drips with distaste.

I frown. "Among other places. We have the pedigree, the bloodline, our backgrounds are congruent, and we’d be able to fold into an arrangement of coexistence with the least amount of disruption on either side."

"Sounds like you’re arranging a merger."

"A takeover, but what-fucking-ever." I raise a shoulder.

Her scowl deepens. "This is how you approached the upcoming wedding... And you wonder why Lila left you?"

"I gave her the biggest ring money could buy?—"

"You didn’t make an appearance at the engagement party."

"I signed off on all the costs related to the upcoming nuptials?—"

"Your own engagement party. You didn’t come to it. You left her alone to face her family and friends." Her tone rises. Her cheeks are flushed. You’d think she was talking about her own wedding, not that of her friend. In fact, it’s more entertaining to talk to her than discuss business matters with my employees.How interesting.