Page 168 of The Temporary Fiancée
The truth of the matter is, he doesn’t give a shit about me, and I’ve always known that. He doesn’t even care about myimage; he cares about his own, and he sees me as nothing more than an extension of that.
A wayward offshoot of himself, not an independent person. Not a man who can make his own choices.
Part of me thinks he might have been angry no matter who I chose as my fake fiancée. He was angry from the moment I insisted on choosing. He wanted to control the situation from top to bottom.
“Of course.” Lionel resumes his pacing, up and down the side of my office. As if he owns the place. As if this is his domain. “At the end of the day, I think you and I both know that the Quinn girl isn’t wife material.”
The words send a shock of fury through me, but I hold my tongue for a moment, collecting myself rather than yelling at him immediately as is my first instinct. I grip the arms of my office chair, fixing him with a glare.
“You’re right,” I say quietly, “Olivia isn’t… wife material.”
He nods in agreement and opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
“She’s not someone who will expand our business empire. She won’t help me network. She won’t connect our family with some other influential family.”
For an instant, my father looks triumphant, but his smile fades as I continue speaking.
“So it’s a damn good thing that none of that matters.”
A scowl twists his features. “Boy?—”
“Because Olivia is the best woman I’ve ever known,” I interrupt, a fierce edge to my voice. “She’s more than ‘wife material.’ More than some superficial match that makes sense toyouon paper. Because she makes sense to me. She’s everythingI could ever ask for in a partner. I fucking love her, and that’s all that matters.”
“Be careful of your tone.”
“I’m not going to do some arranged marriage or some bullshit. I’m not going to let you choose for me. It’s my life, and my love, and I’ve already made my choice.”
My father snorts, shaking his head. Silence falls between us for several seconds.
Then he says, “I don’t think you know that woman as well as you think you do.”
“Excuse me?” I frown.
“You mis-estimated her.”
“What do you mean?”
Lionel smirks, an insufferable expression that stokes my anger all over again. “At least the women I would want you to marry wouldn’t just be after your money. The Quinn girl only wanted one thing from you, and now she’s got it.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, unable to keep the hint of unease from my voice.
“She took ten million dollars to leave you,” he says, offhand. “She was clearly only in it for the money.”
My hands ball into fists, and I inhale sharply through my nose. “Bullshit,” I growl. “Don’t say shit like that about her.”
My father shrugs, raising an eyebrow. “Well, it’s true. I don’t know what you want me to say. She took the check.”
I rise to my feet suddenly, my hands braced on the table. “Get out.”
“You’ll thank me for this someday,” he says, his demeanor still infuriatingly casual. As angry as I am, he doesn’t seem in a hurry to leave. “Trust me.”
Then he saunters over to the door and lets himself out, his hands tucked into his pockets.
I remain standing for a few moments, glowering at the artwork on the walls. I feel as though every muscle in my body is taut, every nerve alight with anger. It takes several deep breaths before I’m calm enough to sink back into my chair, and several more before I can escape the urge to follow my father from the room and strike him in the jaw.
I’m beyond pissed—and I’m stressed. I can’t believe my father. I can’t believe he would say anything as vile as the shit he said today.
I don’t know what to think. Did he really offer her ten million dollars? It seems like something he would do, but… I can’t see her taking it.Never.
