Page 73 of Reluctant Heir

I jolt awake,my eyes flying open as I try to think about what happened.Where am I? What am I doing?

I take a deep breath when I find myself in the room I’m staying in at Connor’s mansion instead of a hotel room. My finger is between pages of a book, and I raise the whole thing, opening it to see that I got almost halfway through before falling asleep, sitting up, with the lights still on. I stretch my neck side to side, grimacing as it pops, and then I set the book down.

My mouth is dry, so I climb out of bed, arching my back and reaching my hands into the air to work out all the kinks. The clock tells me it’s after ten in the morning. I pad to the bathroom and cup my hand under the sink, running some water in it and bringing it to my mouth. The slurping sounds echo in the large bathroom, and a voice has me jumping, flinging the next handful of water out and against the mirror.

“Late night?” Connor asks, leaning casually against the bathroom door.

I glance down to make sure that I didn’t somehow sleep naked. I didn’t. I’m still in my travel clothes.

“Had a hard time getting to sleep,” I say, wiping my hand off and then turning to face him.

There are dark circles underneath his eyes, letting me know that he might not have slept like a baby either.

He crosses his arms over his chest and considers me, and I reach up to run a hand through my matted hair, trying to smooth it down. I shouldn’t have bothered because he turns, walking out of my line of sight, back into the bedroom.

Then, he shouts back at me, “Come on.”

I flinch, not expecting the gruff tone or loud voice, and then I move my feet, following after him. He doesn’t glance back at me. I guess he knows I’m going to follow, and I narrow my eyes at him.

Bastard.

I hate that he’s right.

Soon, we are crossing the threshold of Bertrand’s office—which is now Connor’s office, I guess. I sense my heart speeding up, and I place one hand over it. I avert my eyes from where they last saw Bertrand’s still body lying on the carpet.

“Sit,” Connor says, and I do, clasping my hands in my lap.

I hate that I’m doing whatever he wants, not bucking against him at all. Maybe I’ve finally realized how much trouble I’m in.

“We are getting married today.”

My eyes snap up to his, and I shrink back at the darkness I see swirling there.

“I don’t have any more time to waste. I’m calling in your favor. You are mine and will behave as such.”

“Where is this coming from?” I ask, confused about the change in his attitude. “Can I have some water?”

He pours some from a glass container sitting next to his liquor and hands it to me.

“We aren’t friends, Wryn. We are partners in this,” he counters as he sits behind the desk.

I unclasp one hand to grip the armrest of the plush leather chair I’m perched in as I take a sip of my water and then hastily gulp it.

“Partners who fuck?” I spit out when I’m not feeling so parched, suddenly angry.

He doesn’t flinch. I don’t know why I was expecting him to.

“We both needed a release,” he says nonchalantly, and my stomach clenches.

I set the empty glass down. I knew it probably didn’t mean anything to him, and I wish it didn’t to me.

It didn’t. It doesn’t,I try to remind myself. Stupid fucking heart.

“Yeah, guess we did. What time?”

He furrows his brow, and I sigh.

“What time are we getting married?”

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