Page 10 of On His Bride's Terms

He said, ‘I’ve told you that I think a union between us would be advantageous to any deal with your father, but if you don’t want to marry me it won’t affect that. I don’t play games.’

She inclined her head slightly. ‘I appreciate that. Even if you have admitted that a marriagewouldmake the deal more binding.’

‘All I ask is that you at least give this proposal some thought.’

He could almost see the inner struggle on her face behind those gold and green eyes. Mesmerising.

‘Fine,’ she eventually said, tight-lipped. ‘I’ll think about it. But I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

Primo looked at her and said. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I think you’d enjoy watching my demise from lack of oxygen.’

To his surprise, Faye let out a helpless burst of laughter before quickly covering her mouth and sobering.

She wanted him.

He knew it.

He took a step backwards, even though everything in him resisted moving away from her, and said, ‘Regardless of what you decide, Faye, you can’t deny that there is something between us.’

Before she could respond to that, either to agree or deny, Primo turned and walked out of the room.

It was only when he was in his car on the way back into town that he was able to reflect and realise that for the first time in a long time—if ever—he couldn’t foretell what would happen.

Oh, he knew her father would agree to the deal—he’d be a fool not to. But as for Faye? Primo genuinely had no clue. She could go either way.

There was a tingling tightness in his gut...a sense of something shimmering just out of reach. It was so unusual and so rare that at first he didn’t even know what it was. But then it struck him... What he was experiencing was as banal and common as a cold. It was excitement.

He let out a bark of surprised laughter at the notion, causing his driver to send him a concerned glance in the rearview mirror.

CHAPTER THREE

FAYEHADJUSTreturned to her Manhattan apartment from visiting her father, after a trip to Los Angeles to secure a piece of sculpture for a client at an auction. It had been a week since she’d seen Primo Holt. But he’d started texting her twenty-four hours after they’d spoken.

Messages like:

Have you had a time to think about it yet?

She’d replied:

How did you get my number?

Your assistant was very helpful when I told him I needed to get some urgent assistance with an art purchase.

That’s underhand.

I would have said enterprising. Well? Have you thought about it?

A decision like this requires more than twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four hours later, Primo had sent:

How about now?

I’m in LA. You just woke me up.

There’s a great breakfast spot on Sunset. Angie’s. Tell them I sent you.

Thanks for the rec but I know it already.

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