I'm Lachlan Crowe, and I don't lose my temper. That's the rule.
Then I saw the blood on Darcy Kerr's lip in the back of my car, and the rule went out the window.
Bramwell Tarr had put his hands on her. I was going to make him pay for that.
Lachlan: You told four hundred people you're carrying my child.
Lachlan: That's a hell of a fucking lie, Darcy.
Darcy: It got me away from him. Or did you miss his thumb trying to break my wrist?
Darcy: Besides, you backed me up. Nobody made you do that.
She was right, and I hated how right she was.
I'd claimed her in front of the whole city. My father would have a stroke. Seraphine would make me pay.
I still didn't regret it.
Lachlan: Bramwell won't let this go. He threatened your father.
Lachlan: I can pay Duncan's legal fees. Keep him out of prison.
Lachlan: But I need something from you.
Darcy: Of course you do.
She crossed her arms like I was a bill she didn't want to pay.
Darcy: What is it? My kidney? My firstborn?
Lachlan: Ninety days. You play my fiancée, in public, for real.
Lachlan: And I pay Duncan's fees and keep Bramwell off his back.
The car went quiet. I could hear her breathing.
Darcy: So you want to own me too. Just with better manners.
That one hit me somewhere I didn't expect.
Lachlan: No. I want to win. And you're the only card I've got.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stared out the window.
Darcy: Fine. Ninety days. But I keep my job. And my key to my own flat.
Lachlan: Your flat isn't safe. Bramwell knows where you live.
Darcy: So I'm a prisoner in your tower instead?
Lachlan: You're a guest. With security.
She didn't like that. Her jaw went tight, and I felt like a bastard for caring.
The car pulled into the garage under Crowe Tower.
The penthouse was all glass and steel and quiet. She walked in like she was checking for exits.
Darcy: Jesus. How many people did you screw over for this view?
Lachlan: Mostly my father.
My phone buzzed. Seraphine. I sent it to voicemail.
Darcy: You're not going to answer your fiancée?
Lachlan: She's not my fiancée anymore. You are.
The word sat between us, heavy and wrong and a little bit right.
She looked at me like she was trying to find the trap.
Lachlan: There are rules. You don't leave without telling me. You don't talk to reporters.
Lachlan: And you don't do anything that makes my family look stupid.
Darcy: So I'm your doll. Got it.
Lachlan: You're my fiancée. There's a difference.
Darcy: No, there isn't. Not from where I'm standing.
She was right, and I hated that she was right.
My phone buzzed. Seraphine. I'll destroy her. You know I can.
Darcy stood in my penthouse, blood on her lip and fire in her eyes.
I'd just made a deal with the only person who could hurt me more.