All I’ve done is sleep, eat whatever I want, and lounge around the heated pool. Bliss.
“There’s a phone call for you, Miss Hannah.”
I whip around on the pool lounger and eye the phone hesitantly. Surely…
“Hello?”
“We need to have a talk about your habit of disobeying me.”
My body heats at just the sound of that husky timber, and I smile despite the butterflies winging their way through my blood. I should have known it wouldn’t take long, and to be honest I’m surprised he didn’t show up yesterday.
“We need to have a talk about your habit of being an asshole, but I thought I’d do that when I get back from—”
“Running away?” he asks silkily.
My skin pebbles at the tone. It’s the same one he uses in bed when he’s going all dominant on my ass, and I love it.
“My vacation,” I growl, glaring at the phone.
He snorts, and I smile because I can picture the expression that goes with it.
“You coming home sometime soon? Your ring’s awaiting your approval, and you need to get your dress. Not to mention the fact that I need you to talk to the doctors I’ve found for Nana.”
Shit. Everything’s going full steam ahead with not a stop light in sight, and just the thought of it makes that phantom hole in my chest flare back to aching life.
“I’ll come home when I’m good and goddamned ready. Oh, and when you pull your head out of your ass and stop being such a monumental dick. Maybe I don’t want to get married. Maybe I don’t want to marry you. Maybe I don’t want to spend the rest of my life bound to a man who thinks sex and money are all that I need to be happy,” I say conversationally, swiping at the moisture on my cheeks.
Yeah, and maybe tomorrow an elephant will fly. Of course I want him. I love the man. I just want him on my terms and not his. Unrealistic, but true.
“Han.” He sighs heavily, and I hear the rustle of paper. “You love me. You said so yourself. Why can’t you just let that be enough? We’re getting married in less than four days. Stop being emotional and think, for a change. Nana will be cared for. You won’t have to worry about anything else after this, and—”
“You’ll own me lock stack and freaking barrel,” I finish, feeling my heart sink at the inevitability of it all. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
That leaves me two days to get myself together enough that I won’t be bawling my way down the aisle.
“And your family had better be there too, Greg,” I say as an afterthought.
For some reason he refuses to introduce me to them, and I hate the notion that he’s ashamed of me somehow.
“Goddamnit, Han, you know I won’t—”
“They’re there or I’m not. That’s a deal breaker. If you want me, you have to at least act like you’re not ashamed of me.”
I put the phone down before he can start yelling at me — something that happens when I bring up the mighty Lucas clan — and lean back with a sigh.
This has been…oddly eye-opening.
I fully accept that I always intended to go back and give him what he wants, but I now know that while Gregory might rule me and what happens in my life after this, I have just as much say in what goes on.
If he wants me he’ll take me on my terms, or he can get stitched. It’s time for me to take what I want, or die trying, and I think I’ll start with taking some power back.
And then I’m going for his heart.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The car Chris arranged for me arrives back to a gray and cold New York. It’s raining, hard, and I smile despite the shiver that makes its way up my spine, because the weather perfectly suits my mood.
I feel like a ton of bricks is settling on my shoulders as the driver opens my door and hustles me into the building, before returning with my bags.
“Thanks, Butch. Have a good one.”
“You too, Miss Newman.”
When he’s gone I lug my bags and myself into the elevator, intending nothing more than to snuggle up on the sofa and devour a glass of wine. After Sunday’s phone call and my newfound resolve, I’ve thought of nothing else but bending Gregory to my will, and the planning is quite frankly exhausting.
Seriously, how does Gregory plot and scheme and run multibillion dollar companies while getting me in line at the same time? The man must be a cyborg to get this much done without crashing and burning.
My door opens with a squeak that reminds me I need to oil it, and I drop my bags at the door, going for the kitchen.
“You took your goddamned time, I see.”
I screech and wheel around as the lamp blares to life, revealing my soon-to-be-husband, sitting on the sofa, a dark glare lining his handsome face.