Page 10 of Baiting His Bride

“I love the creativity and challenges PR offers. I enjoy thinking strategically and working with an amazing team. Plus,” I add, “I believe in what we’re doing. Serving as the spokesperson for our brand and advocating for its values and mission, advancing its initiatives, allows me to amplify our positive impact on the world.”

He considers my response for a moment. Then, “I can see why you chose PR. And why you’re one of the best. It makes perfect sense.”

“But?” I prompt, picking up on the question in his tone.

He eyes me, as if debating whether to ask what’s on his mind. “But how is it that a accomplished, ravishing, kind, and thoughtful woman like you single?”

I scoff. “You sound like my mother. Except for the ravishing part. But, to be honest, I’m unwilling to sacrifice and haven’t found a man yet who respects that.”

Before he can press further, I turn the tables on him. “But enough about me. What about you? What do you love about press and running a media conglomerate?”

"Besides being a newsie, of course?"

"Yes, besides that."

"And the All Access passes?"

I can't help but smile. "Yes, besides that, too."

He snorts and shakes his head. “That’s a good question. One I’ve never really thought about. We were born into the business, of course. Henry—you know Henry, right?”

“Your little brother?”

“Yes, he’s always come more naturally to the work. He’s more responsible and seems to enjoy overseeing the operations of our various companies. But once our parents died, there was no longer a question of pursuing something different. Our father was gone, and it was assumed we’d follow in my grandfather’s footsteps.”

Carson’s parents were killed in a car accident years ago. The crash made headlines then, and now, I wonder how that affected the make-up of the man who’s holding me close.

“What would you do if you weren’t in line to take over Bennett Media Group? If you could do anything in the world?”

A touch of a smile curls his lip, and he’s quick to answer. “I’d be a philanthropist. Most people don’t believe me, but I’d take after my mother and use my skills and connections to do what I could to help others.”

The foundation Sawyer mentioned last night, the one I’d never heard about, now seems to make perfect sense. “Why doesn’t anyone talk about your role in the foundation? Why is it that your reputation in…other parts of your life seems to be what you’re known for?”

He looks off across the room with a wry smile. “You know as well as I do that scandals makes great headlines and headlines sell papers.”

The first dance ends and we join the rest of the wedding party making their way toward the head table. But Carson doesn’t lose his train of thought as we go.

“Tell me,” he says, blowing out a long breath at my side, “Are your parents still married?”

“Yes.”

“Happily?”

“Yes.”

“And what would your mother say, do you think, if you told her you met a man and fell for him and he guaranteed you’d never have to sacrifice your career a day in your life?”

I bite my lip, considering his question. It’s another one no one’s ever asked me. “She’d ask me when I’d be giving her grandbabies. But,” I add, as a grin spreads across his face. “If you know a fictional man like that, one who truly means it and isn’t just making empty promises, then send him my way, will you? Because I’m fairly certain a man like that doesn’t exist here in the real world. At least, not one who’s successful in his own right and willing to sacrifice to make a relationship work.”

“If I meet this mythical creature,” Carson says, biting back a smile as he holds my chair for me, “I’ll be sure to give him your number.”

Carson

I’m lost to this woman. Not that I can tell her that now. But I can give her what she wants at the moment, which is crystal clear, thanks to the hand on my thigh for the past ten minutes during dinner.

And because of the touch, the strip of condoms in my pocket is burning a hole through it. If only this meal would wrap up, so Mallory and I can slip away unnoticed. But the round tables for ten spread across the ballroom are still full, the guests enjoying the beef tenderloin with burgundy mushroom sauce and whipped potatoes with crispy garlicky breadcrumbs while soft music sets the mood.

Mallory and I are seated at the long head table, overlooking the crowd, two seats down from the bride and groom. Our absence would be noticed. So I’m biding my time, mirroring her touch and caressing the smooth skin of her thigh, making my intentions known. Because now that she’s confessed what she’s really looking for, I’m free to imagine forever with her. And give her what she wants tonight, so tomorrow, I can start putting the pieces in place to give her what she needs.

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