Seducing My Ex's Father In Law

4

I FELT my jaw go slack, but I refused to let it gape. Refused to let him see the extent of my shock. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

“You heard me.” His expression remained unreadable except for the slight twitch of his left eye, which I guessed to be amusement.

Oh. It was a joke, then.

“Ha ha,” I said, hating how uncertainty coursed through my body. It was an unfamiliar feeling. It made my breaths come shallow and my ribs feel tight. “Very funny. Do you use this opening a lot with potential new associates?” At least my voice stayed steady. Surprising considering how shaken my nerves were.

“I assure you, Celia, I’m quite serious.”

Heat flushed through me. Embarrassment, as the situation became clear. I’d planned to f**k with my father’s rival, and here, he’d beaten me to the punch.

I gathered the file and threw it into my bag. “I hope you enjoyed making a spectacle out of me, Mr. Fasbender.” Like hell was I calling him by his Christian name now. “I’m sure it’s quite the life you lead where playing around with other human beings is merely a means of entertainment.”

The words were out of my mouth before I realized the hypocrisy in them. I knew about such games. I knew about such forms of entertainment.

But he didn’t know that, and I wasn’t about to clue him in. I could be an exceptionally good actress when I wanted to be. “Most of us have to take our jobs seriously. Most of us don’t have ample free time to satisfy such juvenile whims.”

I rose to my feet, slung my bag over my shoulder, and spun toward the door.

“Sit back down, Celia.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, but it was sharp, and the authority in his command was indisputable. It stopped me immediately.

Slowly, I turned back toward him. I didn’t even think of the action consciously. In fact, I could hear myself arguing with my body as I pivoted in his direction. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

But it was as though I were a mechanical doll he was controlling by remote. I couldn’t not turn around. I couldn’t not give him more of my attention.

I was able to find enough restraint to not immediately sit down, at least. With my heart hammering in my chest, I stared at him with bold determination.

He raised his brows, as though it wasn’t often that his demands were questioned. It might have given me a thread of satisfaction if I didn’t sense the current of fury underneath the surprise. It was strong and swift and there, as clear as any word he’d spoken.

It scared me.

Thrilled me, too. How often did I meet someone as dauntless as I was?

I’d never encountered someone who was more so.

I swallowed, and when his eyes flicked from me to the chair, an unspoken order, I sank primly back into the seat.

The edges of his lips curled into a faint smile, and as enraged as I was at his gloating victory, the small gesture also sparked something warm and strange along my sternum.

“You’ll find I hate to repeat myself,” he said after a beat. “But let me say again, I am quite serious about my proposition.”

In an attempt to get my bearings, I studied him. I had absolutely no read on him whatsoever. His motives, his mood—all incomprehensible, no matter how hard I tried to stare into him. I did notice he was even more attractive than I’d first thought, despite his stony expression. Maybe even because of it. He was completely composed and poised. Still, and that was unbelievably sexy.

But there was something beyond the steadiness of his gaze that said his mind was busy. Calculating. He had the air of a secret agent—cool and collected but constantly scheming. Always five steps ahead. Able to

intercept anyone that got in the way of his mission. I could almost imagine a gun holstered on his hip underneath his suit jacket. He felt dangerous. Sinister.

Strangely, that just made him hotter.

Finding no answers in my inspection, I had to ask outright. “Why marriage?”

“You’re a smart woman. Surely you can figure it out.” He lifted one arm and adjusted his cuff, though it seemed entirely unneeding of adjustment. A show of boredom. As though this conversation and what I demanded from it were tedious.

I was rarely so disregarded. Especially in the midst of a proposal. I’d have to work on that.

Sitting up a little straighter, I ran my tongue along my lower lip. “I don’t suppose it’s an attempt to get me to go to bed with you.”

Edward chuckled, a demeaning chuckle that could only be meant to belittle me. “Come on now—such a juvenile attempt to discover if I find you attractive is beneath you.” He abandoned the pretense of fiddling with his clothing and set his hands in his lap. “If you wanted to know, you could just ask.”

Such a conceited asshole. Arrogant. Haughty. It didn’t help that he was also right.

Well, he could be right, but I wasn’t letting him win. He thought he was pulling my strings, but there was no f*****g way I was asking him what he so obviously wanted me to ask, likely so he could degrade me in some other dickish way.

I turned my head toward the mirrored French doors and considered the question more seriously—why me? It wasn’t unheard of for a man like him to arrange his marriages, and I was the kind of match society found ideal. A typical blonde bombshell with good breeding and lineage, I made a perfect trophy wife, but there had to be hundreds of women that fit the profile. Women he already knew. Women who would be more likely to accept such a ridiculous offer.

So why me?

The answer was obvious.

I shifted my focus back to him. “It’s because of my father.”

“There you go. I knew you were more than just a pretty face.” He rewarded me with his first real smile, revealing two crater-like dimples that

were so disarming I barely registered his backhanded compliment.

It was with a great deal of concentration that I was able to return to the conversation. “I’m not sure what you think you could achieve by marrying me. My father would insist on a prenup ensuring my spouse would never touch Werner Media, and if he didn’t have that assurance, he’d change his will. He might change his will anyway. My father is not as stupid as you seem to think he is.”

His expression resumed its natural stoicism. “I don’t think Warren Werner is stupid, not by a long shot. He doesn’t trust me or my company, which is rather smart on his part. But I am what you’d call an ambitious man. I want to enter the U.S. market and there’s no way that your father will allow that to happen, not the way things currently stand between us.

“However, there will be a day when Warren retires. Sooner rather than later, if I were to guess seeing how he seems to spend more time on the golf course these days than in the office. I’d like to take his place as the head of the company.”