Kindle Edition
Amazon
Amazon
Category:
Romance
Publisher: Clarissa Wild
Pages: 36
Copyright: Jul 18, 2013
Price: $0.99 (eBook)
Sultry and daring, Doing It Wild is this year's sexy must-read!
After a fiery night, Grace Bennett couldn’t get over sexy Finn Wood, no matter how much she tried. To make matters worse, her father agreed to a deal and now Grace has to marry one of the worst guys out there. She’s determined to keep that from happening, and forges a plan with Finn, so they can be together after all. Will she succeed?
Excerpt
I sighed, looking at the next guy in line of the long row with potential candidates for my hand in marriage. I was tired of my father’s persistent whining of me having to marry, in his words ‘a fine, young man’, or as I read it in between the thin lines, a wealthy one. It didn’t matter if he was handsome, sweet, smart or any of that. As long as he had money.
My father didn’t care for my wishes. Even though I was already twenty-three, he still dictated every part of my life as if I was his puppet. Directing me to give myself away to some rich prick so he could use me as some sort of bridge between two huge companies. Well I wasn’t having any of it.
“When are we done already?” I asked myself, glancing at the clock on the dark, wooden wall, while the next man stepped into the room. The red spots on his face and crooked teeth made me grunt and I closed my eyes.
“Not again …” I mumbled. Well, maybe this one was cuter than the rest of the bunch, even though he was appalling to the sight. There hadn’t been any today that were remotely witty, kind or gorgeous. One of them demanded I’d do all his cleaning and cooking and one even told me I had to quit my job and be his wife. As a job.
I snorted.
Yeah, right. Like that would happen. Not in a million years.
With my feet, I turned the chair left and right, still keeping my gaze on the wimp standing in front of me, who looked like a small breeze could flip him over.
I waved my hand and said, “Sit.”
With his hands on his lap he sat down uncomfortably on the chair in front of the desk, and then crossed his legs. His fingers grazed his lap in repeated strokes, while he sniffed frequently.
Oh God … a weirdo. What is he doing here?
I heaved a sigh, blinked a few times and forced myself to sit up straight to at least give him a chance. I owed that much to my father. I’d do anything to get away from all this hassle of having to pick a man to marry, against my will I must add, granted that I didn’t have much of a choice. I’d been living with my father all my life and I had the luxury of buying anything I wanted when I wanted it. I couldn’t complain.
Yet, I felt this pang of unfulfilled desire in my stomach. Choosing a man, or rather a mindless, rich stick figure from the countless numbers that came in every week was boring and pathetic. I didn’t want some random douche with money, just so my father could grow his empire even more. I didn’t want to be a pawn in his scheme. I wanted more than this.
“I … I … You,” the pimpled, bony figure in the chair began.
I let out a moan and a sigh and rolled my eyes. “Really? No. If you don’t know what to say, just get out.” I stood up.
The guy flinched and scrunched his lips, while his brows arched.
“Go,” I said, flicking my eyes toward the door, urging him to move.
He blinked, his eyes glazing with tears.
Seriously, is he going to cry? I’m not in the mood for this at all. I’ve been at this for hours.
“Come on, move,” I said, walking over to him.
“What?” he stammered.
“You heard me, out!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up his briefcase and scurried out the door, almost tripping over the doorstep. I slapped my hand against my forehead and shook my head. “Oh brother …” I mumbled.
Was this going to be it?
“Shall I let the next one in, Miss Grace?” Louis, our butler, said.
I barged passed Louis who was standing in the doorway. “No, I need a break.”
“What do you think you’re doing, Grace?” I heard my father’s voice before I saw him.
Turning around toward the giant staircase in the middle of the hallway, I saw him stomping down, having to hold himself up by the rails, because of his overweight, blubbering body.
Jesus, right as I was about to leave, he shows up.
“Mister Bennett, do you need my assistance?” Louis said, holding out his hand.
My father shooed him away. “Grace, go back to your desk.”
“No, I’ve had enough for today. Next week, I promise.”
“Grace, I’m not saying this again. Get back in there. You’re not finished and I want you to finally pick one out, dammit.”
“Christ, I have to choose one of those wimps you picked for me? God no, I’d rather marry a poor, petty, dude who’s at least got his mind straight. Or a nice body, either would be good, but you only present me the saddest guys in the world. Why in God’s name would I ever want to marry one like that?”
I knew it was the money in their pockets that made my father pick them.
“Because I say so! You will accept one of them as your husband.” He coughed, supporting himself on the rails. He really smoked too much shag lately.
“But father, I want to have love in my life. I need to like them before I want to be their wife! Why can’t I just find a rich dude on my own? I can do that.” I folded my arms together to show him my dedication. We were throwing around the terms ‘wife’ and ‘marry’ like they were common goods you could buy at the local pawnshop. As if it wasn’t something ‘for the rest of my life’. Like it didn’t matter.
“You will continue with the ones I tell you to. End of discussion.” Then he turned around, not even granting me one last look, and went back to his office again.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t deserve this. However blessed I was, nobody deserved to be told how to live and who to love.
“I’m out,” I said to Louis.
Storming across the white, marbled floor I forced the great, black door open and jolted down the steps.
The blue, fresh air outside was welcome right now. Salty drops streamed down my cheeks as I took huge steps away from the mansion. The busy gardeners were eyeing me, while I walked through the maze of bushes, flowers and trees. Men looking at me was nothing new. It wasn’t because of my looks; I knew they were always after my money. I wasn’t that pretty, more like a skinny bitch with a kinky nose, because of an accident I had when I was three. Nonetheless, my fit body was my work and I was proud of it. I treated it like a piece of art, always working to shake some pounds off. I was addicted to eating as little calories as possible, controlling my intake, watching the carbs. The way I looked was the only thing I could control in my life.
My father decided who I dated, what I wore, what I did, where I worked. Five years ago he got me a part-time job in one of his retail stores selling high end fashion clothes to petit customers. I envied them, I could never fit into any of it, but then I decided to lose some weight and ever since I’ve been able to wear those beautiful clothes as well.
Now, my looks were the only thing I had any say in. My father can’t control what I eat. Guess that’s the only thing that’s really mine.
I brushed my long, blonde hair aside, striding through the enormous garden until I reached the gate. I forced the tears to subside and clenched my fists. I wouldn’t let my father do this to me. I had to escape. Find some way out of this. I couldn’t really go away though. He owned everything, including me. My father controlled my money and I couldn’t access it without his permission. I don’t know how he did it. I thought, once I turned eighteen, I’d have my own money to spend, but somehow he made it impossible. He had that much power over my life. And anyone else’s, for that matter.
Once I was outside of the gate, a wave of calmness washed over me. Being outside, alone, was a rare commodity.
But frightening too.
Being born a rich girl, meant not knowing anything about the world without butlers, maids and helps, and made it impossible for me to venture into the world. Discovering things, making mistakes, was not one of my routines, unlike normal people. I wished I could.
With my back against the stone wall that surrounded our land, I sank down to my feet and eventually sat down. The cold, hard stone underneath my butt was a welcome change to the ever soft cushions and pillows placed under me wherever I plopped down on a couch or chair inside the house. I was tired of being treated like a prized, feather-like currency.
I sighed and stared at the partially built house across the road. Bulky men worked hard, constructing the house, brick by brick. Their veins protruded through their skins, as they moved the heavy machinery, steel beams and hoisted up materials. I was gawking their muscular bodies, one of them standing out in particular. The reason being, he held a manual upside down.
I sniggered, when one of the men walking passed him took the book from his hand, turned it around and gave it back to him. He frowned, closed it and threw it on a table close to him, before getting a bottle of water. I watched him put the bottle to his muggy lips. As he drank with his chin up, I looked at his buffed torso, the lines of his pectorals peeking through his thin shirt. An intricate pattern was tattooed on his right upper arm. His thick jeans were smeared with mud, grease and concrete. Drops of water dripped down his chin and onto his shirt, exposing bits of skin. Sweat dripped off his forehead, his well tanned skin glimmering in the hot, sweltering sun.
I gulped. He’s too hot.
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