ARROGANT MASTER (29 page)

I force a smile. “I’m just letting you two get to know each
other. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to get to know Cortland during the
courtship.”

Cortland’s hand lifts for a brief second, as if he wants to
place it on mine, and then he remembers he can’t.

“Bellamy is a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I don’t
know her that well yet, but that much I can tell.” Cortland’s lips must hurt
from all the
ass-kissing
he’s done tonight. “If all
goes as planned, I’d like to ask for her hand in marriage soon. I don’t want to
let this one get away. I’d love for us to be starting our life together before
Christmas this year.”

On any other planet, in any other world, this would be
moving along way too quickly. My father doesn’t even seem fazed by this
conversation. He acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“The best courtships are short,” my father says, “for
practical reasons. The longer the courtship, the more difficult it is to
maintain appropriate physical boundaries. I’m fine with that.”

“I agree.” I sit up straight. “I want to move quickly. I
don’t want to wait longer than we have to, you know, if we decide we want to be
together. I’m ready for the next stage in my life.”

Cortland shoots me a look only I can see.

“Which is why I need to get a job,” I add.
Money
. That’s what I need. Money equals
freedom. Money will get me out of here. I need enough to get on my feet, get a
vehicle that doesn’t have my father’s name attached to it and save enough for
an extended-stay hotel or an apartment.

I. Need. Money.

“A job?” Cortland scoffs.

“I want a big wedding. It’s always been my dream. And I’d
feel bad expecting our parents to chip in. Plus I’ve always dreamed of a
European honeymoon. I’m talking at least three weeks going from country to
country,” I smile big, like I’m speaking about something I’ve been fantasizing
about since I was a little girl. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

Lies.

All of it.

“Maybe I can work for a few months? I’ll save everything I
make, and we can put it toward the wedding. Anything left over could be a down
payment on our first house? Something big with lots of bedrooms.” I’m singing
their tunes. I know how this works. I know how to tell people what they want to
hear.

“I don’t know,”
Cortland
says,
drawing it slow like he’s waiting for my dad to chime in. “I make enough to
support us both…”

“Yeah, but what could it hurt?” I shrug. “Extra money is
extra money. I’m done with school, and I’m just living at home. Why not work
for a few months?”

My father scratches his five o’clock shadow. “You know,
Bellamy has a point. And it’d sure take a load off us when it comes time for
her wedding. I know how tough it is to start from ground zero and work your way
up. Might give you guys a nice leg up before you start your life together.”

“Where would you work?” Cortland asks. “Want me to get you a
job in the office at McGregor Medical Supply?”

“No, no,” I say. “I’ll find something.”

Cortland’s brows furrow. He doesn’t like this idea, but I
don’t care. As long as my father goes along with it, that’s the only thing that
matters.

“I think it sounds like a great idea.” My father’s words are
music to my ears.

Thank God.

“Cortland.” My father clears his throat. “We’d like to see a
lot of you around here. And we’d like to meet your family too.”

“I do travel for work, but I’m usually home on weekends and
Wednesdays,” he says, turning my way and pinning me with his gaze. “I’ll be
here every chance I get.”

My father thanks Cortland for coming and excuses himself.

“I’ll walk you out,” I say. The moment I’d been waiting for
all night has finally come, but I won’t breathe easy until I see the red lights
of his car growing smaller as he speeds over the hill.

The second we approach the foyer, Cortland peers around.
We’re alone. He steps toward me, forcing me to back up until his hands press on
either sides of the wall behind me. I’m trapped in his hold. His eyes penetrate
with an unstoppable hunger, until he pushes his mouth against mine to take what
he believes to be his. His tongue slides between my lips, and though the kiss
lasts only a few seconds, it’s a few seconds too long.

“You did good tonight, Bellamy.” His voice is hushed, throaty
and soft. “I knew you’d see it my way. Won’t be long before we can finally be
together the way we were always meant to be.”

I wear the expression of a docile and domesticated
wife-to-be, but on the inside I’m kicking and screaming.

“Can’t wait.” I want to spit his taste from my mouth.

“Do you mean that?” His hand leaves the wall and cups my
chin, lifting it to his.

I nod. “You shouldn’t do this. If my father sees you
touching me this way, being this close to me, it’ll all be over for you…for us,
I mean.”

A long sigh drags past his lips before he licks them slowly.
“We still need to make time for…us. If you catch my drift.”

I nod again. “We’ll figure it out.”

“And while I’ll allow you to work, it’ll only be temporary.
And I should always come first. I’m your first priority,” he says.

“Shouldn’t God be my first priority right now?” I brace
myself since he looks like he wants to slap me across the mouth.

He backs away, but doesn’t release me from his stare. “Don’t
get smart with me, Bellamy. Let’s not go down that road, okay? You don’t want
to see where it leads.”

“Sorry.” I hang my head, feigning shame.

Cortland grips the doorknob, and I watch from the door as he
climbs in to his Kia and drives over the hill. The moment he’s gone, I jet
upstairs to wash him off of me. Remnants of his drugstore cologne reside in my
nostrils and his taste still covers my tongue.

“Hey,” Waverly says when I reach the top of the stairs. She
leans against the wall like she wants to chat. “So it went really well! Dad
seems to love him. They’re practically the same person.”

“Can you do me a favor, Waverly?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Let’s not talk about Cortland, okay?”

She laughs. She must think I’m joking.

“I’m being serious,” I say, squinting my eyes. “I don’t know
what’s going to happen. I don’t know where this is going to lead.” The truth
lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not sure if she’s ready for it just
yet. “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“So I’m not allowed to talk about him?”

“I ask that you don’t.
For now.
Don’t ask me about him. Don’t ask me about the courtship. Don’t say his name
around me.” I realize my requests are absurd, and I wish I could sit down with
her and explain everything.

I will eventually. When the time is right.

“I-I
guess
. I mean, if that’s what
you want.” Waverly’s eyes turn from scrunched to sympathetic. “You were so
quiet at dinner. It’s like you don’t even like him.”

“Of course I like him,” I lie. “This is a very big step to
take. I take it seriously. It’s scary.”

“Everything’ll be fine.” She runs her palm across my arm.
“It’s all going to work out the way it should. Courting is just…courting. I
mean, yeah, it’s like a pre-engagement type thing, but you can still change
your mind if you’re not right for each other. God will show you the way.”

If only it were that
simple.

“Anyway.” I inhale loudly and wipe the anxious look from my
face. “I’m going to go wash up for the night. Maybe do my prayers and devotions
early. Call it a night.”

My sister carries on, hopping down the stairs, and I make a
beeline for the bathroom. I wash Cortland off of me.
My
hands, my neck, my face.

After changing into pajamas, I crack open my laptop.
Everything on here is filtered by some Christian software my father installed
the day he gifted me with this machine. The only reason I got it was for
school, and I’m shocked he hasn’t take it away. I try to keep it out of his
sight, so as not to remind him I still have it.

I type in Careerbuilder.com.

BLOCKED.

I go to Jobdig.com.

BLOCKED.

My father blocked every website that wasn’t related to our
faith or wasn’t connected to the school library or email system or research
journals. I can’t even use a search engine.

I pull up my school email and stare at a blank message as I
rap my fingers across my mouth.

I whip up a generic email asking for job search leads and
BCC a handful of old instructors, but the second I send
it,
I realize I’d forgotten my favorite marketing guru.

Professor
MacAbee
.

A jolt of hope shocks my heart into a rapid beat. I double-click
an old email from him in my inbox and type up a quick note.

Hi, Professor,

How have you been? I’m
glancing at an old email of yours from the last day of Marketing 275, and I saw
that you mentioned knowing of some available jobs in the area? I know it’s been
several months, but I was wondering if those positions might still be
available?

I’m in desperate need of
a job right now, and I’ll take anything.

Thanks and hope all is
well.

Bellamy Miller

I give it a quick read and press send, chewing on the inside
of my lip as I wait for a response. If he’s anything like he was last semester,
he should be glued to his email. Every message I ever sent him was returned
almost instantaneously.

With each refreshing of the page, a small part of me sinks
when I don’t see a new email pop up. Only when I push my computer aside a few
minutes later, do I hear a faint chime. Dragging it back to my lap, my breath
hitches when I see Professor
MacAbee’s
response.

Bellamy! All is well
here. Good to hear from you. I’m sure you’re enjoying your permanent hiatus
from my lectures, though I have to wonder if you miss my pop quizzes!

One of my old colleagues
is looking to hire a bunch of college grads for some simple office work. The
job is in Salt Lake City, but I know he’d give you an interview if I threw a
personal recommendation his way. Give me a day or two to get this all set up,
and I’ll shoot you an email with the details.

Ciao,

Prof Mac

My mouth pulls wider than the Grand Canyon as I shut down my
laptop. I knew he’d come through for me.

And that’s how it’s
done.

This book almost didn’t happen. If you were
with me during the whole Amazon
vs
Arrogant Bastard
debacle, you know exactly what I’m talking about. So first of all, I want to
thank my wonderfully supportive readers for speaking up during that nightmarish
time and for contacting Amazon and letting your voices be heard. I’m fully
convinced that you were the reason Amazon allowed me to sell Arrogant Bastard
once again, and this book, Arrogant Master, exists because of you. Also, thank
you to all my author friends (new and old) who reached out to me during that
fiasco. There are way too many of you to mention! We’re all in this together,
and you know I’ll always have your back if you ever need it.

Second, Katrina.
You
are my favorite writer friend in the whole freaking world! I was terrified to
touch BDSM and you held my hand every step of the way. I love that I can ask
you about frozen dildos and it doesn’t even faze you. Thank you for your
help!!!

Louisa Maggio, you made another stunning
cover!
Thank you
,
thank you
!
You never disappoint.

Thank you to my ARC readers! Your
enthusiasm and encouragement blows me away. My form filled up in 24 hours this
time, which is definitely a record!

Thank you to all the bloggers and readers
and Camp Winter members who’ve promoted me. Your support is tremendously
appreciated!

Last, but not least, thank you to my
husband for doing more than your fair share of parenting duties while I
finished this book. You never complain, and you’re so supportive and amazing.
I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve you. Love you,
Boops
!

*
unedited
, working
blurb

PLAYBOY
.
Noun
.
A wealthy man who spends his time
enjoying himself, especially one who behaves irresponsibly or is sexually
promiscuous.
Synonyms
: ladies man,
philanderer, socialite.
See Also
:
Beckham King.

BECKHAM
KING
.
Noun
.
Synonyms
: None.

They call them his “casualties.” Beckham King has a penchant for
casual hook ups. They say it all begins with a little flirting.
A few whispered innuendos over drinks.
A promise of an
unforgettable night and an agreement never to speak again when it’s all over.
He doesn’t do commitment or relationships. He’s not looking for love and he
makes that abundantly clear. But every woman who’s ever found herself tangled
between his thousand thread count sheets thinks she’s going to be the one to change
him. And I know this because as his personal assistant/best friend, I clean up
his messes, comfort their tears, and thwart the stalkers.

Am I attracted to him?
Of course.
Do I
ever think about him…like that? How could I not? Would I ever sleep with him? Been
there, done that.

Beckham had me once, and now he wants seconds. Unfortunately for
him, one night with an arrogant playboy was more than enough to last me a
lifetime. I’m maxed out. I’ve reached my quota. But he refuses to give up until
I give in one last time, and secretly, I kind of want to…

Subscribe here for release notifications!
http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j