Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“Potential? Look at this place. It’s a dump. A teardown at best. Maybe you can get something out of the land, but a renovation? You’re out of your mind. You don’t know the first thing about any of this. Did you even think for two seconds before leveraging your trust fund for this stupid distraction?”
Indignation shoots through me. “I’m more capable than you think. And I didn’t use my trust fund. I have the cash on hand, if you must know.”
“How?” he demands.
I jut my chin. “From my websites.”
Pres looks startled. “Your silly little tech thing?”
Now I’m pissed. I can feel the heat pouring out of my face as my nails dig into my palms. “Yes, my silly little tech thing,” I echo bitterly.
I’ve never elaborated on how much money my sites have generated, and he has never seemed particularly interested beyond poking fun at them. I thought it was a guy thing. Harmless teasing. Sometimes he’d come over when I was working on BoyfriendFails and tell me how cute I looked with my face all furrowed in concentration. He’d grin and call me his “sexy tycoon.” I thought he was proud of me, proud of all the work I was putting into the venture.
It isn’t until this very moment that I realize he wasn’t smiling out of pride. He wasn’t seeing me as a “tycoon.”
He was laughing at me.
“That was supposed to be a hobby,” he says flatly. “If I’d known you were earning an income from it, I would have—”
“You would have what?” I challenge. “Forced me to stop?”
“Guided you in the right direction,” he corrects, and his patronizing tone makes my blood boil. “We’ve spoken about this before. Many times. We’d go to college together. You’d have whatever hobbies you wanted during school. I’d graduate first, take over at my dad’s bank. You’d graduate, join the boards of your mom’s foundations.” Preston shakes his head at me. “You agreed I’d be the breadwinner in the relationship, while you focused on charity work and raising our family.”
My jaw falls open. Oh my God. Whenever he’d said stuff like that, he’d used a teasing voice. Made it sound like a joke.
He was actually being serious?
“You’re going to back out of the deal.” The finality with which he issues the order shakes something loose inside me. “You’re lucky I’m here to stop you before your parents find out. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, Mackenzie, but you need to get ahold of yourself.”
I stare at him. Stunned. I never imagined he would hate this idea with such ferocity. At the very, very least, I thought he would be supportive of my decision. The fact that he isn’t leaves me shaken.
If I could misjudge him on this to such an extent, what else have I been wrong about?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
COOPER
“We’re out of booze.”
I roll my eyes at Evan, who’s sprawled on the living room couch with one arm flung over the edge. The coffee table I built last weekend is already stained with beer and covered with cigarette butts. Someone must’ve knocked over the overflowing ashtray last night, during another one of Evan’s impromptu parties.
“It’s noon on Sunday,” I tell my brother. “You don’t need booze. Chug some water, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’m not saying I want a drink right now. But someone needs to make a beer run. We’re hosting poker night tomorrow.”
By “someone,” he clearly means me, because he promptly closes his eyes and says, “Take Daisy with you. She likes riding in the truck.”
I leave Evan to his beauty sleep and whistle for the dog. I don’t normally let my brother order me around, but truth is, I’m feeling stir crazy.
I didn’t join in on last night’s drunken festivities. Instead, I spent most of the night in my workshop, went to sleep before midnight, and was abruptly awakened at seven a.m. by a disturbing, X-rated dream about Mackenzie. I was in bed with her, on top of her, thrusting deep while she moaned against my lips. Then I lifted my head and Mac’s face transformed into that chick Sutton’s face, which jolted me right out of slumber.
Swear to God, this girl has wreaked havoc on my brain. Doesn’t matter if I’m asleep or awake—thoughts of Mackenzie Cabot poison my consciousness and drum up a whole slew of emotions I’d rather not feel.
Anger, because she’d chosen Kincaid over me.
Frustration, because I know there was something real between us.
Guilt, because my original intentions had been shadier than shady.
And for the past couple days? Disgust. Because, in order to divert her friends’ suspicions that we might know each other, she forced me to pretend to be my twin brother—and then had the nerve to bitch about me hooking up with another girl. Not that Sutton and I even hooked up. We went for a walk and then I put her in a cab. But still. Mackenzie had no right to be pissed. She’s the one who kissed the hell outta me and then bid me fucking adieu.