Page 66 of Lost Love

I slid my hand down my pants and adjusted my strained cock. “I have a lot on at work.”

“That’s twice you’ve turned me down.” She smoothed down her dress with a jerky movement. “You’ve never turned me down,” she said, pushing out her chest so her latest breast enlargement was on full display.

“I know, it’s not you. It’s me.”

Fuck, did I just say that?

She bent her hand to her hip. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Fuck, Francesca. What do you want from me?” I threw back the rest of my whiskey in one go, but it did little to settle the unease.

“What I want is to get laid by my fiancée. Jesus, is that too much to ask? Or is this something that will need to be written into the prenup along with every other condition?”

“It has been arranged since we were kids, Francesca. It doesn’t mean we have to consummate it.”

“Are you listening to yourself? You’re one of the biggest players in Manhattan, and you’re telling me you don’t want to consummate things?”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you.”Although, my dick has other thoughts.

“Well, then, so what, are we meant to exist like this, having separate bedrooms and taking lovers on the side because you’re not meeting my needs?”

I exhaled. It would be exactly what my parents had—a lackluster marriage. I didn’t want that. I really didn’t want what they had. I owed it to her to give it a shot, at least.Right?

“No, I guess that’s not what I want.”

“Good.” She crossed her arms over, then slowly walked back over.

“That’s not what I want either.”

She huffed out. “Let me take you out to dinner. Let’s try to do this properly.”

“A date? You want to take your fiancée out on a date?”

Instead of being grateful, she looked at me like I just asked to lick out her asshole.

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing.”

“Well, at least there’s one proposal… fine, text me where and when.”

She turned, put down her champagne flute, and snatched her bag, walking toward the elevator.

“I’ll do that.”

She stopped walking and turned abruptly.

“Just for the record, I’m not fucking happy, Connor.” She eyeballed me with over-arching eyebrows.

“I have needs, Connor, and if you can’t meet them, then there are others who can. Many others.”

If she was trying to make me jealous, it wasn’t working. “I’m sure there are,” I added.

“Well, goodbye,hubby.”

I didn’t bother with a response. My fate was well and truly sealed. I best make the most of it.

* * *

I didn’t give a fuck who saw us argue. I probably should have, but I just didn’t care. Caring about my old man disappeared when I realized he valued his precious company and legacy more than his son.

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