Read His Greed (Billionaire Blind Date Book 1) for Free Online Page A

glanced at my car not far down the street, waiting for him to at least say goodbye, but he didn’t. The driver opened his door, clearly to get out and open mine.
    “I can do it myself,” I said as I opened the door and turned to put my feet on the pavement, but Grant grabbed my arm and held it until I turned back to look at him.
    “Text me a couple of days before the wedding, as a reminder.” His expression gave nothing away.
    “So I won’t hear from you over the next three weeks?” I tried to stay just as neutral.
    “I’m a busy man, Sophie, so that’s possible. If I don’t see you between now and then, I hope you’ll still do a few things for me afterward to hold up your end of the bargain. Fair’s fair.”
    “Of course,” I said too quickly, and had to struggle not to sound hurt and childish. “I don’t renege on my business arrangements.”
    His eyebrow raised at that. “Good.”
    “You’ve still never said exactly what it is you want me to do, aside from pretending to be your girlfriend, I guess. Or having sex with you in bathrooms.” It had come out before I could stop it, but it was a reasonable question now, wasn’t it? “What exactly does my ‘end of the bargain’ entail?”
    His face lost all hint of amusement, but he didn’t look angry, just serious. “You come when I call you.”
    “And if I don’t?”
    “We both know you will.” His hand left my arm, and I shot out of the limo. The driver had already pulled the door fully open, so I stormed by him and hurried to my car.
    You come when I call you. What kind of arrogant, domineering, self-absorbed ass . . .
    I blinked back tears as the limo pulled away from the curb and disappeared. I could still smell him on me, the light musk, the heady manliness that didn’t come from any cologne. Could feel his fingers on me, in me. Feel him thrusting, hearing his growl when he came.
    See those damned, dark eyes of his staring into mine.
    We both know you will.
    If I’d had more confidence, more self-respect, more . . . anything, surely I would never see this man again. Wouldn’t most women rebel against his attitude? I didn’t know, but I felt like I was supposed to.
    Yet, I worried he was right. I wasn’t sure I could resist him, even feeling a little used and tossed away as I did right then. If he called . . . wouldn’t I go?
    We both know you will.
    He was right. And it made me hate both of us.
     
    ***
    I stopped hating myself, and Grant, after a few days, and instead settled for being furious with myself. Because Grant didn’t call, and that disappointed me more each day than the one before.
    I told myself repeatedly that I didn’t want him to. He was arrogant, had treated me coldly after our encounter in the men’s room, he was spoiled and so used to getting everything he wanted that he thought I’d just fall at his feet because he asked. I assured myself I’d be better off to never hear from him again.
    I knew it was a lie.
    Every time my phone chimed, adrenalin zipped through me. This one could be him. A call scheduling a job interview I’d been hoping for couldn’t even get me excited thanks to the disappointment I felt when it wasn’t Grant’s voice on the other end of the line.
    Grant must have given Aten my information, because someone from his company called about the logo redesign, making that following week practically an embarrassment of riches—no job prospects for weeks, and now two potential jobs within two days. Not even that cheered me too much, which I decided was ridiculous, even though I couldn’t stop feeling that way.
    I made an appointment to meet with their art department the following week. That should have thrilled me—not just a great boost for my portfolio, but a potential foot in the door with someone like Aten Hollis.
    Almost two weeks had passed, and Grant didn’t call or text.
    “He’s busy, Sophie,” I said to myself after brushing my teeth one morning. “A captain of industry. If you