Page 31 of The Deal with the Playboy

My calves burn as sweat drips down my face. My hair clings to the back of my neck. The sun beats down on my shoulders. The sky is crystal clear, and I watch as an older couple strolls past me.

My life is too much in shambles. I’m stuck in a relationship without love—something I swore I wouldn’t do—for the rest of my life and I’m giving up my dreams of becoming a mother. All because I want my mother to accept me.

Her words echo in my head.Trash.She’s called me a bitch before but never trash. Her words dig into my head and take root, like a tree. She makes me feel as if I’m not good enough. No matter what I do, she’s my mother and I still love her. She needs me right now, and I can’t turn my back on her. She needs me to help her and my stepfather to get out of the debt they’re in, and I will.

The only way to get her attention is maybe through the media, so this dinner date with Jasper might prompt her to call me. Hopefully, it will. If not, I will try another route.

I stop at the entrance of the park, and Michael picks me up and takes me back to the penthouse. I hop in the shower and clean myself well, then I get dressed and sit at the vanity which I had delivered earlier, grab the eyeliner, and glide it over my eyes.

Once I’m finished, I set the eyeliner down and cover my face in foundation and spread blush over my cheeks. I want to glance at myself in the mirror, but shame doesn’t let me do it.

Jasper waltzes into the bathroom and he changes from his suit to a dark shirt, displaying his thick muscles, and his dress pants are snug around his waist and thighs. His frames sit on the bridge of his nose. He looks like he stepped out of a fashion magazine. My mouth waters at the sight. I don’t want to dampen his evening with my bullshit, so I say, “You look beautiful in your outfit.”

“Beautiful? Men can’t be beautiful.” A wicked smile spreads across his face, and my heart warms. I stand up and flatten my silk dress that hugs my body, causing him to whistle.

“You’re fine as fuck in that dress.”

He comes up to me, sits on the chair I just vacated in front of the vanity, then he grabs my heels and places each one on.

Those stupid butterflies are back, swarming in my stomach, and my heart flutters. My body quickly remembers what his hands can do to my body. I know I told him no sex, but I don’t think I will be able to hold off much longer. I need to put some distance between us. How can he make a simple act look so sexy? My skin burns from his touch.

He casts me a curious glance. “What happened at lunch today?”

I’m not about to disclose to him what happened with my mother. It’s my issue and I need to face it on my own. It would be nice to hear his opinion, but he has other things to worry about than me. Plus, I don’t want him to think I’m going to back out of our deal.

I avoid eye contact with him and clear my throat. “Nothing.”

His eyes trail mine as he folds his arms across his chest.

“Bullshit. Michael reported back to me that you met someone at a cafe.”

I step back, putting some distance between us. “So that’s what you do? Have him spy on me?”

“Yes, actually I do,” he answers as if he doesn’t care if I know.

Jasper is bold. Too bold. Most men wouldn’t admit to spying on their soon-to-be wife.

Anger spreads to my chest like wildfire. “Why are you having him spy on me?”

“That’s not your concern. My concern is your well-being and who you meet.”

Why does he care anyway? It’s not like I’m his real girlfriend. The better question is, why doesn’t he trust me?

“You don’t trust me,” I state.

I stomp to the walk-in closet and grab my clutch that’s the shape of a ball and strap it across my shoulders. He’s on my heels like white on rice, and before I know it he’s leaning against the arch of the doorway.

“This is business, so my business doesn’t concern you,” I snap.

“If you were meeting another guy, Poppy, then this wedding is off. I’m not going to be played a fool.”

Just as I thought, he has trust issues. Who hurt him? How is this marriage going to work if he doesn’t trust me? We’re already starting off on the wrong foot. I debate on telling him the truth, but if I lie and he finds out, he might not start to trust me at all, and I need him to win my mother’s approval. We both need each other’s help. And I don’t want to play games with him.

“It’s nothing like that. I met with my mother, and s-she didn’t want to see me. She called me trash.” Me repeating it all out loud to him makes me feel ten times worse, and I feel foolish. I’m allowing my emotions to get the best of me.

Anger crowds his eyes and he bawls his hands into fists but keeps them glued to his sides. “You’re not trash, Poppy.” His tone is gentle. He strokes my cheeks and warmth spreads in my belly. I don’t know if his words are genuine, but I needed to hear them. I need to hear something that’s uplifting. I feel like my head has been underwater, waiting for fresh air.

“It’s no big deal.” I shrug.

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