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“You want to know a little secret?” He still hadn’t dropped his hand. “Only if it’s relevant to helping me find you a suitable match.” I had very little interest in learning anything about him otherwise. I swear his eyes were twinkling as they slid between mine, his smile jerking. “I kind of like it when you’re mean to me.”
A few more items to add to my growing list of life-threatening allergies: 1. Whatever cologne he was always wearing. 2. My body being forced into close proximity with his body. 3. His bow tie (which I was absolutely not internally obsessing over). 4. Him clipping my safety belt into place for me.
“For the last time, you’re not for him. And just so we’re crystal-fucking-clear on this, you won’t be fucking anyone else with my ring on your finger.”
“You think I’m easy to fall in love with?” His voice was husky, quiet.
“It’s not him,” he whispered against my lips. “It’s not him. Come back to me, Jamie.”
“How can you stand it?” His voice was raw, anguished. “How is it fair that you’re only halfway there, but I can’t fucking breathe anymore, Jamie?”
“I’m done. Eight billion people in the world and my Jamie’s the best fucking one. It’s her, or it’s no one. I won’t be blackmailed and manipulated into making the single biggest mistake of my life, so fuck you, fuck the shares, and fuck the family legacy. I choose Jamie.”
