Page 355 of Hate Mates

I snap my mouth shut, forcing myself to relax, even though every part of my body is on edge because there is no reasonable explanation for what she’s asking.

She stares at me, the look in her eyes rather haunted. “Just to be clear, I don’t like you at all. I’ve seen how you operate. I’ve witnessed firsthand how careless you are, and I believe you’re an irresponsible, borderline irredeemable fucking asshole who treats women like cattle.”

I frown, sliding to the edge of my seat. “Well, this fucking conversation is over.”

“Fucking calm down, Ren. I’m doing a shit job explaining, but give me a minute, and I’ll get to it.”

“There can’t be one decent reason you would want to marry someone you have such a high opinion of.”

She sighs, her hands fisting in frustration as she mutters, “Okay, maybe the cattle comment was a bit too far. But you have to remember I’m used to going out of my way to antagonize you. It’s not something that just goes away overnight.”

“Well, for the record, I gave up any kind of playboy ways a long fucking time ago. And also, any woman you feel I may have treated like ‘cattle’ were perfectly happy with the arrangement at the time.”

She rolls her eyes, her lips twisting, but then she nods. “Yeah, I know. If nothing else, it seems none of them have ever had a bad thing to say about you.”

“What exactly is it about me that offends you so much?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just because you’re breathing.”

I laugh hollowly, once again sliding to the edge of the seat, but this time, I do stand and turn toward her as I say, “Well,unless you plan on marrying me just so you can become a widow, this entire conversation seems pointless.”

Cassidy looks around the room, suddenly appearing like a caged animal, and then she jumps to her feet, closing the short distance between us so she’s standing directly in front of me. “Regardless of your reputation or how I feel about you, I know if you make a deal, you’ll fucking stick to it. I won’t have to worry about you trying to cheat me.”

“Surely, you can find a whole line of willing and highly acceptable men for the job.”

Her lip curls, her arms cross over her chest, almost defensively. “Believe me. None of those men give a shit about me. The last thing I want is to end up stuck with some smarmy douchebag Daddy would approve of.”

“Is that what this is about? Daddy’s approval?”

She frowns and then laughs bitterly. “If this was about Daddy’s approval, I wouldn’t be fucking standing here in front of you, would I?”

I squint down at her and then nod because that is absolutely true. I take a couple of steps away from her, needing to put a bit of distance between us, and then I turn back to face her. “Okay, give me the important details of why you thought it would be a good idea to show up here and proposition me with this insanity.”

“Well, my dad’s lawyer approached me the other day to remind me of some fine print in my trust fund.”

My snort interrupts her explanation, and she gives me a dirty look. I incline my head in the way of a shitty apology, and then, after a moment, she says, “I have to secure a husband before my twenty-fifth birthday. This isn’t the first time I’d heard about it, but I genuinely believed all the previous mentions were a bad fucking joke. His lawyer has now assured me it’s not a joke, and I’m running out of time.”

“What kind of archaic bullshit is that?”

She shrugs with her entire body, irritation lacing her tone as she sputters, “I don’t fucking know. I tried to talk to my dad about it, but he wouldn’t budge. Instead, he provided me with a whole list of eligible suitors who would happily take me off his hands.”

“Take you off his hands? What the fuck does that mean?”

She rolls her eyes, taking a few steps toward me, only to immediately pivot and walk in the other direction. She paces back and forth, her movements jerky as she explains, “Apparently, my father’s insistence that I get a college degree and prove myself was a complete waste of time. Now that I’ve had ‘my fun,’ I’m supposed to settle down and let the men handle things.”

“I can see how that might be fucking irritating.”

“You have no fucking idea. And let me tell you, this list of eligible suitors is fucking laughable. It’s mostly a bunch of spineless patsies, and the handful of men I know are complete douchebags.”

“Bigger douchebags than even me?” I reply teasingly.

“Yes, if you can imagine,” she replies without hesitation. She stops pacing, then turns, and looks at me. “So you understand my dilemma, then?”

“I don’t see what it has to do with me,” I answer honestly.

She sighs, her shoulders slumping, and raises her hands in front of her. “I already told you. I may not like you, but I trust you to follow an arrangement. I trust you to make a deal with me and to uphold your end of the bargain.”

“How do you know that?” She shakes her head and shrugs, her eyes focused on her hands still suspended in front of her. She looks sad and lost, almost helpless, so I ask, “And what are the terms?”

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