Page 8 of Princess of Pride
“Emery,” he says my name in an intimate way, as if he’s said it a hundred times.
I glance up at Lachlan’s face, my lips parted, my body heating from the sight of him and the sound of his deep voice. The kind of voice that draws romance readers to audiobooks.
“Why are you here?” His gaze lowers as if he’s just noticing my ripped dress and exposed side-boob. His eye twitches. “Who did that to you?” Rage sounds in his voice. His English accent is there but not prominent.
It takes me a moment to answer, his question and anger confusing me. “I did this. There was a bee. I fought it, and my dress ripped.”
“You fought a bee?” he asks as if I’m ridiculous.
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “It was a big bee.” My gaze drops to his chest again. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“Astute.”
I blink. Did he just mock me? My defense to people picking on me is to act like a snob, so that’s what I do.
I plant my hands on my hips and lift my chin. “What areyoudoing half-naked in my pool house?”
His jaw flexes. “Your father insisted I stay here for the weekend.” He doesn’t sound happy about it either.
Because he’s not. He’s a pawn in my dad’s future business plan just like I am. He doesn’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry him. Talk about awkward. The men dad introduced me to in the past were so self-absorbed they acted as if they were doing me a favor. Lachlan has zero interest in me whatsoever. The least I can do is cover up my grotesque boobs.
“Would you happen to have a jacket I could borrow? I won’t make it back to the house to change without my top half falling out of this dress.” Like an idiot I gesture to my boobs where the lack of support from the material has them spillingout of the top and side, my nipples a mere half inch from full exposure.
His gaze narrows on my breasts before sliding down the entire length of my body in an excruciatingly slow perusal. If he likes what he sees, nothing shows on his stern features. If anything, he looks angry. His nostrils flare, and his lips press together.
I’m no stranger to being checked out. I’m not saying I’m the beauty my sister is, but I’m far from a troll, yet Lachlan looks like he detests every inch of me.
Maybe I was right before, and heisgay.
Clearly, he has issues toward women with how he behaves around them. Even though Mom said he has no shortage of dates, they could all be fake to cover his secret.
This could work in my favor, but I need to take a different approach than what Mom suggested. Flirting is unnecessary. I need to appeal to Lachlan’s business-minded nature.
Hope blooms inside me over this could-be relationship.
I fold my arms under my boobs, unintentionally shoving them way up and meet Lachlan’s fluorescent gaze. “We’re both here today to appease my dad, correct?”
He arches a brow. “Your point?”
“You have your reasons for this union. My father does too, but I’m not seeing the benefit for me. We’re obviously not a good match.”
“What gives you that impression?” he says with an edge.
“For starters, I’m practically topless and you’re not fazed at all.”
“Hmm.” He rubs the manicured scruff on his chin, but his gaze stays on my eyes without so much as a glance at my breasts.
His reaction makes me even more confident in my theory. Lachlan isgay.
My dad might be ruthless but marrying me off to a gay man is too risky, even for him. The possibility of no heirs is too high and that’s Dad’s end goal. He wants the business passed down to our children to keep it in the bloodline.
Technically, Lachlan and I have the body parts to make babies. Whether it can be done or not is another question, especially if I repulse him.
No longer intimidated by him but rather determined, I shuffle closer. This guy doesn’t find me attractive in any way, so my usual self-consciousness over my boobs is as gone as that bee.
Tilting my head back to maintain eye contact, I stop a foot away from him. “I’m willing to marry you.” Gulp. Did I actually just say that? “If you agree to one thing.”
Amusement flashes in his eyes, but he otherwise appears bored. “Which is?”
