Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
"That's what Ridley's alcohol line is about."
"Yes, but if you want people to view that line as something they absolutely have to have instead of as a passing curiosity, you need to make it about more than just the alcohol. If it's exclusivity you want to sell, they need to invest in you and your family first. Give them a reason to want to be in that exclusive club. They can't do that if the only one of you they know anything about is Jareth." His twin lives an odd double life. Most days, he's a vintner. Sometimes, he's a rockstar, too. And somehow, he's still the normal, approachable twin. Weird.
Bastian stares at me for a long moment before mumbling something under his breath. Judging by the look on his face, it's probably a curse. He is not a happy vintner.
"Fine," he growls anyway. "Take your pictures and your videos. Ask them about our traditions. I'm sure they can give you all sorts of stories you can use." Before my smile can fully form, he holds up a finger. "But the first time I see a shirtless photo of one of my idiot cousins, there will be hell to pay, Constance."
An amused laugh tumbles from my lips as I rise to my feet, smoothing my skirt. "How's that different than any other day?"
He narrows his eyes, glowering at me again. "I mean it. I don't want any of them posing shirtless for you. They keep their goddamn clothes on."
"Is this your way of offering to pose for thirst traps for me?" The taunt is out before I even think it through. I'm not entirely sure what I expect once it's out there, but the way his hands clench on top of his fancy-ass desk, the muscles in his arms bulging like he's two seconds away from hauling himself out of his seat, has my stomach turning flips.
His eyes lock with mine, something absolutely wicked roiling in the depths. That look hits me like a hammer blow, stealing my breath. All I can do is stare at him, praying to God I don't whimper.
Do I? I have no fucking clue.
I want him to stomp around the desk and yank me into his arms. I want to mess up his perfect suit. I want him to bend me to his will and break me, dammit all.
He doesn't. He doesn't even move.
Not until I'm stumbling toward the door on heels that suddenly feel a little bit too big, anyway. I'm nearly through it before he finally speaks.
"When you see me shirtless, it damn sure won't be for social media."
God, I want that. So damn badly it's making me wild. I've never felt this…this…clawing, desperate need before. I've never ached like this. I've never wanted like this. But I want him. Enough to beg for it.
"Get to work," he snaps, the command clipped, almost harsh.
I stumble again before I manage to catch myself.
What am I doing? What am I thinking?
Bastian Grayson is my boss, second only to Satan himself. And there's not a chance in hell that he's offering to strip down for me. That's my own delusions speaking.
He doesn't even like me.
I slip out of his luxury corner office with my heart pounding…and run right into his cousin, Trystan.
"Shit, sorry," I mutter, grabbing onto the door handle before I manage to take us both to the floor.
"It's all good. I'm used to people fleeing from my cousin in terror. It's the sole reason he'll die alone."
I bite my lip, fighting a smile. Trystan is always cracking jokes and teasing his brothers and cousins. But he and Bastian are close. I think he's picked up on my complicated feelings for his equally complicated cousin. He goes out of his way to point out that Bastian is single, like he's hinting for me to do something about it.
But yeah, that's probably not going to happen. I'm half convinced his cousin actually hates me. Bastian doesn't want to bend me to his will because he wants to fuck me. Oh no. He wants to bend me to his will only because I stubbornly refuse to bend. It has nothing to do with him liking me or wanting me. He's just a despot who needs to control every single thing in his little kingdom, including me.
I'm going to pretend that doesn't hurt my feelings.
"Tryst, stop fucking around and get in here!" he growls behind me, right on cue.
Trystan grins before his gaze drifts toward his cousin and then back to me. "I was going to ask how he is today, but I guess that's my answer," he mutters, humor glinting in his blue eyes. "Your fault?"
"Probably." I shrug. "Isn't it usually? Y'all hired me, and the stick up his butt got permanently lodged somewhere near his throat."
"Best decision we ever made," Trystan says through laughter before sliding past me into Bastian's office. "You know, she's going to run out of your office one day and just not stop, you dick."