Pretend to Be Mine by Carter Blake

Author:Carter Blake [Blake, Carter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 33644608
Publisher: Seabrook Books
Published: 2017-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Ross

I’m waiting for Brooklyn in the lobby when my phone buzzes. I curse under my breath when Ella’s name pops up.

You left early last night.

I missed you.

I expect you to make it up to me.

XOX

I shove my phone back in my pocket, ignoring her message. She’s like a virus, one that no amount of antibiotics will ever get rid of.

I know the real reason why she’s working on my father’s campaign. She’s got it in her head that my breaking up with her is temporary. That we’ve got some sort of future together. But the only future I plan on is building my business and proving to dad that I’m more than any man that he could ever be.

The elevator doors open and Brooklyn steps out. Like every time I see her, my breath gets caught in my throat, and all the blood in my body goes straight to my cock.

She’s wearing a white and yellow sundress that scoops low in the front, and hugs her curves perfectly. Blonde hair tumbles in waves down her shoulders, hiding the scar on her neck.

I know now that’s why she always wears her hair down. I haven’t asked her about it, but I plan to.

The thought that someone hurt her makes my stomach twist.

“Hi,” she says almost shyly.

“Hi.” I can’t help myself from reaching out and touching her cheek, running my knuckles across the smooth skin.

Her face is clean of make-up, and that’s how I like it. Her skin is flawless, with a dusting of freckles that she usually hides under concealer.

“Everything all right?”

“Yes, I just needed to call my roommate and let her know I wasn’t coming home.”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what her roommate had to say on the subject. “And?”

“I told her about our…arrangement.” She glances away. “I didn’t want her to worry.”

Our arrangement. The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. But she’s right.

Despite the emotions that she stirs, this can’t be anything more.

I give a brisk nod and drop my hand. “I’ll have the driver get the rest of your things.”

“They are not my things,” she says coolly, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

“Of course they are. Everything I bought for you this weekend is yours.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t–”

“It’s not negotiable, Brooklyn.” I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly feeling defensive, like she’s already walked away from me. Which is a complete asshole response, because I’m the one that will walk away after this weekend.

But the thought of her pulling away makes my skin prickle.

Maybe I’m just on edge after my call with the board of directors this morning. The second quarter has seen a slight drop compared to the first, and I need this weekend to go smoothly.

Getting Stevan Holdgates to give me his portfolio is the goal. I’ve played gold with him on occasion, but never managed to lock the bastard into listening to my business proposition.

With him on board, White Industry would double its revenue in the third quarter.

That’s what I need to focus on this weekend.

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