“M-marry you?” I sputtered. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“No. I’m dead-ass serious.”
“Are you insane? Why the hell would I marry you? We don’t even know each other, and I’m not entirely sure I even like you! There is no way in hell I’ll be your wife; there’s got to be another solution to try and keep the winery in the family.”
“It will be in the family. It’s the only solution. The only way for it to still be in the Sinclair family is if you marry me. Now, there’s a deal for you. Listen, babe, I’m doing this for your benefit. Do you think I really want to get married? You keep your name on the company, and I get to fuck that hot body whenever and however I want. I need a taste of that pussy, and the rest of that delectable body.”
“You are disgusting. You are such a…a…an arrogant pig!” I was so angry with him. He was sitting there with such a smug expression on his face I wanted to throttle him.
“Normally, I don’t do the ‘Precious Princess’ type, but you are so hot that I’ll overlook that part. Besides, this could solve both of our problems.”
“You are beginning to be my problem,” I grumbled.
“Just listen and hear me out, okay?”
“Listen! You want me to listen? Oh, I’ll listen, all right, or at least until I see you being hauled away in a straightjacket because you are dead-set insane, buddy.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You just don’t get it, do you, Princess? If we don’t do something quick, your family will lose the winery. The entire empire your father built will be gone. Is that what you want?”
Max loomed over me, his vibrant, dark-brown eyes blazing. “Didn’t you just say you’d do ‘anything’ to get me to help your father with his financial predicament?”
“Yes. But—”
“Then shut up and listen.”
Damn him, he was so bossy.
“Look, you know I’m one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, and to be brutally honest, I’m sick of these clueless and desperate women trying to worm their way into my life and my family and my empire. Like I said before, I’m going to be honest: I’m a greedy and controlling bastard. My playboy-bachelor label is working against me these days. Only last week, I was shut out of a bid for a huge project in Darwin because of my marital status…or lack thereof.”
I blinked at him. “I don’t understand. Why the hell would they give a shit if you were married or not?”
“The committee choosing the company to build their resort is very conservative, very traditional and they have the money to be choosy. Unfortunately, the Director is very ‘family-orientated’ and every time I’ve made a bid, I’ve been rejected. So, to answer your question, Yes it does matter a great deal if I’m married or not,” he added testily.
“Well, that is just ridiculous! Where on Earth in Darwin is this resort going to be? Is it near a church or nunnery, for Christ’s sake?” I scoffed. Good Lord, anyone in their right mind would be able to see that Max Brunetti would be able to tempt any nun out of her habit. Repeatedly.
“It’s a win-win situation. You need me and I need you, case closed.”
I thought about what he said, and he was right; this would probably be the only way my father would let the winery be under anyone else’s control. Currently, Max Brunetti was the king in my father’s eyes; in fact, he always had been. I just wished he’d gone to see Max first; that way we wouldn’t have come to this.
“So, really I have no choice. That’s what you’re saying?” I asked him.
“No, you don’t. We can’t run the risk of that greedy fucking prick Tate Turner getting out of jail and trying to get his hands on the shares you and Milan have. This mess is all his doing, and a large part your father’s for trusting that weasel. He should have come to us from the beginning.”
I paled at the mention of Tate Turner’s name. I felt sick, and bile began to rise in my throat; I could feel the acid burning my oesophagus as I swallowed. My skin felt clammy, my knees wobbly and I was rendered speechless. Breathe. God, I was suffering an anxiety attack. I had to ride the waves of nausea. I couldn’t let Max see me like this; all those therapy sessions I’d had seemed to have gone out the window - like I never, ever had them.
“Jada, are you listening to me? You’re looking a touch pale. Are you feeling sick or something?” Max questioned me.
It took every bit of strength to compose myself. I could do this; I could beat this shit. Tate Turner was NOT going to break me! Breathe. Just breathe. I assured myself mentally. With a deep breath, courage and an enormous amount of self-control, I lifted my gaze back to Max. “I’m fine. It’s the heat; I’m not used to it. I’m damned pissed off knowing there are people out there who want my shares in the winery. It gives me the creeps,” I said with determination, trying to sound composed.