Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal) - J.C. Reed Page 0,39

speak to the driver.

For a few seconds, he sat here, the lights above us changing from violet to blue. When he spoke again, his voice was low and wary—as if every word spoken was well prepared. “The original plan was to interview, hire you, then work with you to build up trust,” he said. “You had all the qualifications anyway, so it would have worked out.”

“After which you wanted me to fall in love with you, and you would have proposed, right?” I asked.

He hesitated, the tip of his tongue flicking across his lips. “That was the plan, yes. Falling in love would have been a necessity.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh as another flash of pain rose inside me.

His words hurt, but what wounded me the most was that he was right. It was such a good plan. I had to give him that.

I would have fallen in love with him, just like any other woman out there. Given that I’d obsessed over a guy in a dark elevator, I would have probably jumped at the idea of dating him.

The truth was, it wasn’t hard to fall for Chase. He was sexy, confident, always knew what to say, available.

Too good to be true.

I knew that right from the beginning. I just didn’t listen to my intuition and the alarm bells ringing at the back of my mind.

If Chase were the light, I would be his moth, drawn to him even though I know I’ll get burned.

Even though I was already burning.

“So, it wouldn’t have made a difference if you met me then; the outcome would be the same,” I whispered.

“If you put it like that, yes,” he replied.

“You didn’t need months to make me trust you.” My voice quivered. “It took you what? Three weeks? You really did a fantastic job. Well done.” I clapped my hands to applaud him. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“Please don’t do that,” he said through gritted teeth.

I threw my hands up in the air. “What? I’m praising your talents. Or are you ashamed? Are you having regrets?” His mouth tightened again, and the nerve under his right eye began to twitch again. Nope. No regrets there. “Thought so,” I muttered.

My self-control surprised me, not least because inside I was breaking in places I didn’t know I existed.

I would leave Chase with my dignity intact.

That was the plan.

I lifted Chase’s half-full glass to my lips and, kicking off my shoes, I leaned back against the leather seat and took a generous sip.

The liquid burned its way down my throat.

If we had to have this conversation, I’d better get some alcohol in me. And fast.

“Why did you really marry me?” I asked casually as I took another sip. “I know it’s about money, but you don’t look like you need it. Besides, you know I don’t have any. And don’t tell me it’s because you want to help me. We both know that’s bullshit.”

“I thought you might ask that at some point,” he said again, avoiding my eyes. “It does involve your inheritance.”

“You said that already,” I said, infusing confidence I didn’t feel into my voice. “But you also said you weren’t interested in my money, and you know damn well I own nothing. So forgive me that I’m confused.”

“That’s right. I’m not interested in your money,” he explained. “It’s not money per se I’m after, but the inheritance Clint gets.”

I frowned as my brain began to struggle to put the pieces together.

“Clint?” I asked slowly and leaned forward. Chase nodded. “Why are we talking about him?”

“Because Clint is the reason I married you.”

Oh, God.

My stomach dropped and my head began to spin.

Suddenly, I felt weak. My grip tightened around the glass, and for a moment I feared it might snap. I stared at Chase shell-shocked. “Did Clint make you do it?”

Sighing, he leaned forward to lift the bottle from the bar, poured himself another glass, then shifted in his seat, his eyes still avoiding me. For the first time something flashed across his face. Judging from the way his expression hardened and his shoulders tensed, he was fuming mad.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain that I thought was addressed at me. “Your stepfather destroyed everything we had. Our home. My family’s business. Everything my parents had built in thirty years—all lost in the span of a few weeks.” His voice was quiet but firm, every word spoken with so much hatred, it made me flinch. “He ruined