The Playboy’s Unexpected Bride. Sandra Marton
the loss of your sister.”
“Thank you.”
Ana narrowed her eyes. The words were polite but she knew what this arrogant bastardo really meant was, Go away. Anyone viewing the scene would have thought she’d materialized out of the air instead of taking the elevator from Human Resources, two floors below.
Was he playing dumb? Could he really not know why she was so angry? He knew. He had to. He also knew damned well that he’d lied. That he’d said yes to her father only to placate him and had never, not in a million years, expected her to show up in New York.
If only Papa had never asked him.
She’d considered telling him not to, once she’d realized the man who’d forced his kisses on her that night was the man he was going to entrust her to, but how could she?
She’d worked a minor miracle, convinced Papa to let her take a stab at a career in New York, the city where all things were possible. She could have gone off without his approval, yes, but she knew her desire for independence pained him. She wanted to do it without hurting him, and she had.
After months of talk, Papa had finally agreed to let her go, but only if he hand-picked her employer.
“A good man,” he had said. “An honorable one with a successful business.”
Papa knew lots of good, honorable men who were successful. They were also middle-aged, overweight and balding. That was the kind of man she’d expected.
Instead, Papa’s selection had turned out to be Lincoln Aldridge. Tall. Dark. Not middle-aged, not overweight, not balding.
Lincoln Aldridge was a magnificent male specimen.
He was also a sexist pig who’d overpowered her, forced her into his arms, forced his kisses on her, forced her to melt against him and yearn, plead, burn for him to do more, more, more…
Nonsense.
It hadn’t been like that. She had been offended by his behavior and she would have told Papa the ugly truth about the good, honorable Senhor Aldridge, but Aldridge had gotten that terrible phone call about his sister.
After that, Ana had assumed Papa’s plan was done with. Then, last week, he’d showed her the letter he’d written and Aldridge’s response…
“Miss Marques?”
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