Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I consider that, really consider that hard, and it’s hard to be objective. “I don’t know the right thing to do, Ethan.”
“Why don’t you call him and just ask about his investor? See where it stands. Find out what we’re dealing with. And we can stay an extra day or two, if we need to, in order to handle this.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yes. Of course. My family might be a hot mess, but we’re flying to New York, not directly to Paris, for a reason. I don’t want them to be a hot mess. You agreed to detour with me. I’ll stand by with you here until we get your dad in fighting order.”
“Thank you, Ethan. That means a lot to me. You helping him means a lot to me.”
“If I invest, it’s not help. It’s important you understand that. It’s an investment.” And then, as if he’s read my mind, he adds, “It exists outside of us.”
It’s everything I needed to hear, and I press my hand to his powerful thigh, lean into him, and plant a kiss on his jaw. It’s the first time, outside of sex, I’ve dared to show such affection.
He groans softly, folds me close, and cups my face. “You’re tempting me when we still need to talk business, when I really want to spread you wide and taste you all over again.”
I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks and the clench of my sex. “Ethan,” I whisper, and he runs his thumb over my lip, his mouth brushing over mine, his tongue just barely teasing mine before he says, “You are going to be the end of me, woman.” He sets me away from him, his voice roughened up but somehow all business. “You need to call him. Find out what the situation is that we’re dealing with. Him. Then us.”
In that moment, I’m trembling with how much I want him, certain it’s him who will be the end of me, not the other way around. Or maybe, we’ll be the end of each other.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sofia
My nipples tingle to the point that it’s with much struggle that I manage to agree with Ethan. My father first, us later. “Yes,” I murmur, returning to a reality without his hands on my body. As uncomfortable as my future confession to my father will be, it’s also necessary. I snatch my phone from the coffee table and punch in my father’s number.
“Honey,” my dad answers. “That was fast. Do we have fashion news?”
“Not yet, Dad, but it’s coming. I was just sitting here wondering about your investor. I’m anxious to hear.”
I can almost feel the dip of his brow; I know him so well. “Why are you worried about me? I told you, we got a new contract.”
“It costs money to make and distribute the product,” I counter. “You know I’ve lived that with my store. It’s why this Moore’s deal is exciting. It allows my brand to grow without my own personal investment.”
“Well, that’s true on all points,” he concedes. “Distribution costs can put a company under. And to that point, I’m not a huge fan of this guy, but he offered me the cash flow I need.”
“Who is it?”
“Ed Walters.”
“Who is Ed Walters?” I ask and eye Ethan, seeking his reaction.
His lips press together, and he shakes his head, letting me know Ed is a bad move for my father.
“He’s a part of a big equity group,” my father explains. “They’re cash heavy, but the problem with them is that they take a chunk of the business in exchange for fast funding. I’m time-strapped to perform for this new contract, but I’m trying to be smart, too. I’m going to get legal advice tomorrow, see if we can carve out some of the business to avoid a full buy-in.”
“That does sound like a sound idea. Don’t say yes until you get advice.”
“I made some mistakes when I was grieving your mother, which made me miss out on better options, but I’m recovering. I just don’t want to settle over those mistakes.”
My stomach is one big twisted knot. “Have you explained that to anyone?”
“No. I don’t want them thinking I’m some sort of emotional time bomb.”
“I don’t think anyone would think that, Dad. I think it’s a logical explanation.”
He’s silent a beat, then, “Thank you, Daughter, for your worry. I promise I got this.”
“Do you have other options?”
“Let’s talk tomorrow at dinner.”
I hesitate, wanting to push, but the phone is not my best method of influence; that is clear. “Okay,” I concede. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, honey.” And when I think we might hang up, he adds, “Why are you up in arms about this? And don’t tell me you’re not. I know you.”
“I’m negotiating for my own rights and business right now. I know how easily that can go one way versus another.”