"It’s your business now. You are marrying a Price."

  She swallowed hard. "By force."

  "Look, there are benefits to being married to me, and you're not taking advantage of it."

  She shrugged. "Aren't you counting your lucky stars though? You got me for a bargain."

  "For the record, just so it's crystal clear, I got you because you were the one I wanted. Morgan isn't the one who glitter-bombed me and called me a nepo baby. She's not the one with the eyes that see straight to my soul. She’s not the woman with the lips that tempt or the one who cracked shards of ice off my personality."

  A soft gasp was her only response.

  "Now that I have some food in you, though I wish you'd eat more, I was serious about wanting you in bed in two hours. If not, I'll come back, and I won't ask as nicely."

  Then I left her sitting in the study before I did something stupid like kiss her again.

  Chapter 21

  Gwen

  I didn’t sleep well.

  And no, it wasn't because my brand-new fiancé was hogging the bed or because he'd somehow managed to maneuver me on top of him. Again.

  Hell, it wasn't even because he'd woken me up, hard and pressing against my clit. How the hell did he manage to make me come while sleeping? Again.

  All night, I'd been thinking about what Atticus said about me not asking for help. That my pride would get in the way of helping my people. He'd said I needed to trust him. Could I?

  Not a good idea. You were sold to him. Letting your guard down is dangerous.

  Dangerous, yes. But I had bargaining power. Maybe I needed to exercise that.

  It had taken me all morning to work out the proposal for him. When I turned up at Pendragon Tech though, I wondered if I’d made a mistake.

  The pretty brunette in the front room of his office eyed me up and down.

  I'd worn lavender wide-leg pants and a white cap-sleeve top. I looked fine. So why was she looking at me like I was yesterday's garbage? Her gaze was the same as one of those girls in high school, and boy oh boy, had they found me lacking.

  She has nothing to do with you.

  I forced a broad smile at her. "Hi, I'm⁠—"

  "I know who you are," she said in a clipped tone.

  Well then. "All right, is my fiancé in his office then?"

  I saw the muscle in her jaw tick as she kept typing, not bothering to meet my gaze. "He's very busy."

  "Okay, but he told me anytime I needed anything, I was to come directly to him. So I'll just pop in really quick."

  She shoved to her feet and yelled, "I said he's occupied."

  But I still managed to bypass her. I might not be a Price yet, but if Atticus told me to come to him directly with problems, and last night was a test, I planned to take him up on it.

  I knocked on his door, knowing he could see it was me through the glass, but I could also see that he wasn't alone.

  Bronson.

  The cold sweat that popped up on my skin made me swallow hard.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I forced a smile on my face and opened the door as he gestured for me to come in.

  "Well, this is a surprise," he said as he walked around the desk, and all I could do was force that tight-lipped smile. Bronson was glowering at me from the couch.

  He can't hurt you. He cannot hurt you. Your company is not in his hands.

  Atticus made a show of brushing his lips over mine. I could also feel the heated stare from the doorway behind me, which meant bitchy-face was pissed.

  "Mr. Price, I'm so sorry, she just⁠—"

  Still tucking me against him, he shifted to the side to look at her. "Gwen is about to be Mrs. Price, which means that she has access to me whenever she wants it."

  I could almost hear her sputtering, and I wanted to turn to look and relish it, but I couldn't. I had bigger fish to fry. What the hell was Bronson doing here?

  "I'm so sorry to interrupt. You said to come by whenever, and I just…"

  "You're fine,” Atticus said. “Jacobson was just leaving, actually."

  Bronson stood then, adjusted his suit, and rebuttoned his jacket. "How could I interrupt the lovebirds?" He shook Atticus's hand. "I guess we'll be talking more."

  Atticus just cocked his head. I couldn't read that expression, but it felt icy. "We'll see how things go."

  Bronson turned to me and spread his arms as if he expected me to walk into them.

  Get fucked, asshole.

  When I didn't step forward, Bronson stepped toward me.

  But right before he could touch me, Atticus wrapped his hand around my middle and turned me aside so that all Bronson managed to do was tap me on the shoulder. His gaze narrowed at Atticus then swung to me just for a second. "Well, I guess I'll leave you two alone for whatever you’ll be getting up to in here."

  I pursed my lips together. "That, delightfully, is none of your business." And then I turned my back on him.

  I knew to never turn my back on a wounded animal, ever. But I had to. Because I had to gather myself like nothing was wrong.

  The door closed behind us, and the warmth from Atticus was gone.

  "I'm surprised to see you, Gwen."

  "I-I didn't know you had a meeting."

  "Jacobson? He was in here trying to make a deal to license your tech. He knows with the acquisition that he no longer has a route except through Pendragon. Why?"

  "No reason,” I said. “I just didn't expect to see your competition in here."

  He cocked his head and studied me as I tried to force my face into an emotionless mask. "Right,” he said warily. “Let me get you a drink. What would you like? Pellegrino? Coffee? Tea?"

  "Oh, tea, please." I needed to do something with my hands. I hated coffee with a passion. I loved the smell of it, but ugh, the taste... yuck. It didn't matter how much sugar I added or dilute it with milk, I still hated it. Lance always made a point of bringing me hot chocolate in the morning so I could look like one of the cool kids.

  "Right. Tea it is then. Here you go."

  But I’d turned to stare out the window, and his voice right behind me startled me. When I whipped around, my hand knocked against the mug, sending the contents splashing onto his shirt. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm so sorry."

  I immediately reached into my bag and pulled out tissues, trying to soak it up, but his hands stilled mine. "Hey, it's okay. It's just a little spilled tea. I have another shirt in there. I'll change real quick. Don't move."

  "Is this you telling me where to be again?"

  "Maybe,” he grinned. “But I do want to know why you're here, so give me two seconds."

  He disappeared into the bathroom, giving me a second to take several deep breaths. His office wasn't what I’d expected. I’d expected another version of the penthouse. Cold. Bare. But there was oak paneling, dark and masculine. Leather couches and chairs. And there were photos here. A couple of him and Micah, one from what looked like a beach trip. Then I noticed one of him and another woman. I could see immediately that they had the same eyes. Probably his mother. And there was another photo of him with an older woman and Micah, also grinning. He looked happy.

  I turned around to find him coming out of the bathroom. He didn't seem irritated at all that I was snooping. And he came out of the bathroom shirtless. My God.

  For fuck's sake. I'd seen him shirtless the other day, but this was shirtless in suit pants. Jesus Christ.

  I dragged my fingers along the corners of my mouth to make sure I wasn't drooling and also to make sure my lipstick was all right. Then I forced my gaze off his chest as he reached into his closet to pull out a clean dry shirt.

  I deliberately tore my gaze away to his desk, and my heart stuttered when I saw a photo of myself. It was from the gala. The lighting was superb, and I was laughing. I remembered the moment. It was something Morgan had said. I looked happy. Where did he get this?

  Suddenly, I felt his shadow next to me, and I turned to find him watching me. "Where did you get this photo?"

  "I called the photographer from the event."

  "Okay, it's weird that you have it.”

  "How is it weird that I have a photo of my fiancée on my desk? After all, shouldn't I? And since you brought it up, we need more pictures together. I'll have Leah organize an engagement photoshoot."

  Oh, right. Engagement. We were getting married. I was his fiancée. He should have a photo of me, and I should have one of him.

  No. Fuck that. There was no way I was going to have his sardonic face on my desk all day. Absolutely not.

  "Um, you know what? We’d better have Morgan organize that. There may be a photographer she knows who's great at photographing bronze skin. We want the pictures to look good, don't we? I'm sure Morgan has contacts, and she can ask Clarissa to help."

  He frowned. "Sorry, I didn't even consider that."

  I shrugged. "Well, why would you?"

  "I just… I never thought about involving your family. If there is anything else I'm not thinking about, please tell me."

  He seemed to mean it. "Right. Listen, about last night…"

  "What about last night?"

  The way his voice went low and throaty made me clutch my thighs together, trying to stave off the melting of my core.

  "I have been thinking about what you said. About me not asking for help and just fighting for my team. I'm just used to doing everything on my own. The one time I accepted help, it turned out badly."

  That was the understatement of the century.

  “Tell me, what do you need, Gwen?"

  Morgan had told me that when I was dealing with him, I needed to use my assets. The problem was I wasn't charming like her. But I did have other assets. So I sat on the corner of his desk, angling my body to face him.

  Immediately, his gaze dipped to the sliver of skin that appeared when I turned my body.

  He eyed me up and down, his wintergreen gaze scanning me very slowly as he sat down in his desk chair, stroking his chin, watching me. While I was the one who had walked in here to bargain, he looked every bit the predator who was waiting for lunch.

  Come clean. Tell him a little about Bronson.

  "Okay, you're right. I need help and support. I know that you want the software. And obviously, it's yours, as am I. But I need to pay my employees. I need money to do that. We have client deliverables to finish."

  "I see that. And what, you're here to negotiate that?"

  "Yes. I propose that maybe our arrangement not only be for public consumption. The way you watch me sometimes, I think you want me. And you're obviously not hard on the eyes. Maybe this should be less an on-paper thing and a more real thing?"

  He lifted a brow. "So, you walked here to negotiate with your tits and ass?"

  "I'm just saying, we could—" I expelled a long breath and tried again. "Look, I'm not good at this, so let me just put it all on the line. I think you want me. And I would be lying if I said I didn't feel some kind of spark with us at the gala and when you’ve kissed me. It's just gotten all convoluted. And then you were throwing prenups at me and telling me I’d be in your bed. Anyway, if it means that my team gets what they need and that maybe things are less contentious between us and you will help me, then maybe I’m proposing a real marriage."

  He watched me with narrowed eyes, his gaze hooded. "Do you have any idea why I kissed you the other day?"

  "At the restaurant or the penthouse?"

  'Well both, but mostly at the penthouse."

  "No."

  "I was jealous."

  I frowned at that. "Of what?"

  "Let's see, you left my bed at five thirty in the morning, not to go for a workout or anything, not because you're hungry, but to meet Lakewood."

  Was he serious? "So? Lance had been my best friend and my right hand for years."

  "Exactly. I don't like it because I want you to be mine. Only mine."

  I swallowed hard. What was I supposed to say?

  "And you were wearing that fucking pink silk blouse. It pebbled your nipples, and all I wanted to do was get my hands on them."

  My mouth just formed a small O as I stared at him.

  "I was irritated because Lakewood noticed as well. And I'm sure you walked with him all the way to work with your ass swishing back and forth in that skirt."

  I swallowed hard.

  He pushed to his feet, bracketing me on the edge of his desk, his breath warm on my neck, and I flushed deep.

  "Take me at my word, Gwen. I've already taken care of the payroll problem. I handled it yesterday after we talked. You don't need to offer yourself up for sacrifice. You've done enough of that."

  "But I—" I licked my lips and tried again. "I don't understand."

  "When you come to me, I want it to be because you are so desperate you can't be anywhere but in my arms. I want to know that you're pressing your thighs together to try and calm that ache you have for me. And it doesn't matter, but I could swear that I know exactly how your ass feels in my hands while you’re riding me. That's how vivid my fucking dreams of you are. But I want you because you want to be here. Not because you're trying to bargain or because your father is a prick who has given you to me. So, Ness, you're going to come to me because you want to. And I was serious when I said that you will be a Price. Which means you’ll have everything you need."

  “I—thank you. But I don’t like uneven scales.”

  He pursed his lips, but his eyes stayed soft. “We’re not keeping track, Ness.”

  "Why are you calling me Ness? My name is Gwen."

  He chuckled softly, his breath against my neck. "You'll figure it out."

  I turned and tried to twist out of his barricade, but he didn't budge. "Atticus, are you going to let me go?"

  "No, I don't think I will."

  "What?"

  "I’m sure you haven't eaten today, so I'm going to feed you. And then I'm going to send you back to your office, fully fed and satisfied."

  And why, oh why, did my traitorous pussy shudder at the sound of the word satisfied?

  Chapter 22

  Gwen

  I should have known I wouldn’t escape the day unscathed.

  I hadn’t even gotten my usual sprawled-all-over-my-fiancé wake up call for my birthday. Which was bullshit. If I was going to have to sleep next to a gorgeous billionaire every night, the least he could do was warm a girl up.

  Warm you up. Sure.

  Whatever. I was almost getting used to the cuddles.

  The point was this morning I’d woken up alone to a cold bed. Atticus was just coming back from the gym as I was leaving to meet Lance to walk to work. He hadn’t even given me a performative kiss for Lance. Just kissed my forehead and told me to have a good day.

  Even Lance hadn’t said anything this morning, so I thought I’d escaped. My assistant, Carrie, had gotten the team to sign a card since that was the level of fanfare I was allowing.

  However, no one told my sister.

  The off-key singing down the hallway was my first clue. The raucous laughter was the second.

  Maybe I could hide and she would just go away.

  Alas, as the singing drew nearer, I knew it was too late.

  I wasn’t even embarrassed about it as I slid down my chair and hid under my desk. Maybe if she didn't see me, she would just go away and leave me to work in bliss.

  Suddenly, a low baritone that could sing joined my sister.

  Lance. The traitor.

  He knew how I felt about my birthday these days. I used to love my birthday. It used to be my favorite day.

  Not anymore though. One year older. Twenty-five.

  Ugh, there had to be a way out of this.

  The door to my office opened without the courtesy of a knock. I sat as quiet and as still as I could under my desk. Morgan and Lance still sang at the top of their lungs, though, Morgan purposely going even higher and more off-pitch.

  God.

  Mom had taken her to voice classes when we were kids because Morgan was convinced she was born to be a Broadway actress. Obviously, that never worked out, given my bleeding ears.

  Finally, they stopped, and I held my breath, thinking they might just go away.

  "Where the hell is she?"

  Lance laughed. "You know Gwen. If she could avoid the whole day, she would."

  "She can't keep avoiding her birthday."

  "That's why we make it a point to celebrate even if she doesn't want to,” Lance said. “I thought this year we were going to take her on a trip."

  "Have you seen her schedule?” Morgan said shrilly. “As if I haven’t already tried."

  He sighed. "I guess we’ll have to sit in here until she comes back. Even if it’s all night."

  Damn it, Lance.

  Morgan laughed. "So while we wait, why don’t you tell me what the penthouse is like? I keep trying to visit, but she’s always here."

  "I've never been further inside than the foyer," he muttered.

  "Come on, you have to have some intel. I hear the Park Tower has a waterfall inside going down the center from the sixteenth floor to the second.”

  They stepped closer, and I could see their feet as one of them placed something on my desk. “Aren't you worried about her?” Lance asked. “I mean, she's your sister. You should be worried. Especially since she dove into this for you."

  I could hear the irritation creeping into Morgan's voice when she spoke. "Do you dare to judge me? I didn't make her jump off a cliff for me. I didn't ask to be married. I don't even know the guy. How is that my fault?"

  "You could have handled it better. At least I tried to do something."

  I could almost hear Morgan rolling her eyes. "Oh, right, because you sat there and said, 'Oh no, I'll fall on the sword for my beloved Gwen.’"

  "She's my friend. It's what you do."

  "Yeah, I get that's what you do, but I know why you do it."

  Lance’s comeback was weak. "Ugh, shut up. You're the worst."

  "No, you're the worst."

  "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, you're both the worst," I called from under the desk.

  Lance laughed. "I told you she was here."