Page 16 of Hard and Unprotected
Maggie nods, taking in the gleaming silver accoutrement.
“Weareknown for our watchmaking abilities,” she says in a soft voice. “But we’re so small that there aren’t that many opportunities other than watch-making, so I decided to move here to pursue my education.”
I nodded. It makes sense, plus it was clear that Maggie had ambitions and was trying to further herself. Nice. My dad would like that.
“In the meantime,” the pretty girl continued, “I’m working at DoggyMart part-time. I know, I know,” she laughed, holding two hands up. “The store name is so ridiculous.”
Hey, DoggyMart was no worse than K-Mart. Customers knew exactly what they were getting.
“Do you like it?” I asked curiously. Most women hate their jobs, hoping and praying for a prince to sweep them off their feet so they can quit. Strike that. They’re waiting for a sugar daddy to set them up so they can quit.
But Maggie was different.
“I love it,” she admitted shyly. “The animals are so innocent, it’s impossible not to love them. They just want to be taken care of by a nice family. And it’s terrible that more people don’t feel the same way. We get a lot of strays because DoggyMart is also an adoption clinic,” she explained, “and not just a pet store.”
The girl opened her heart, talking about her dreams in life. She was caring, sincere and genuine, wanting to make a difference in the world by taking care of ailing animals.
And fuck, I loved it. Because maybe she didn’t have money, but she had a lot of what counts.
Good values.
Good priorities.
An open heart.
So I leaned back, idly tapping my wine glass.
“It’s great your so into dogs. Bowzer loves you already, that’s clear.”
She blushed and looked down, smiling. Those long lashes rested pretty and dark on those ivory cheeks.
“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “By the way, where is Bowzer?” she asked, craning her head around. “I haven’t seen him yet tonight. Did you lock him up?”
I let out a short bark of laughter.
“Hardly. Ain’t nothin’ going to keep that dog chained up. He’s sleeping in the guest room,” I explained. “Out like a light after a meaty dinner and a long walk.”
The girl’s laugh tinkled, making my balls hum.
“See? I told you,” she teased. “He’s a good dog at heart, nothing like the big monster you make him out to be.”
But then her tone went serious.
“So what about you, Mr. Lincoln? Why are you doing all this? You were kind of vague back at the pet store with this- this fake fiancée stuff,” she stammered.
What a question. But it was only fair, right? I dragged her into this. My life should be an open book. Or at least somewhat of an open book because I wasn’t going to scare her with the raunchy parts quite yet.
But how to describe my life without seeming like a douche? Because I’m the guy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. From birth, it’s been privilege non-stop. Private schools, yachts, college, the obligatory European tour, and then a job at my family’s company. From the outside, it looks like I was handed everything. But nothing is ever that simple, and I work hard for this shit.
After all, Henry Lincoln is a hardass. When I described him as a human form of Bowzer, that was an understatement. He’s Bowzer times five. Or times ten. He’s a ruthless businessman who doesn’t know how to turn it off when he steps away from the boardroom. Thus my current predicament. Marriage for control of the Lincoln Corp.? What the hell? The two had nothing to do with one another, but Henry doesn’t see it that way.
So I explained it to Maggie in broad brush strokes, leaving out the worst parts.
“My dad’s an control freak,” I said smoothly. “He wants to control my life, but it’s just a ruse. In reality, he doesn’t want to give up the CEO position at our family company, so he’s made it impossible by demanding that I get married.”
Maggie paused.
“But why is that impossible?” she asked with a puzzled gaze. “There must be tons of women who want to marry you,” she murmured, cheeks coloring.