Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He shook his head, already cleaning his plate and rising from the table. “I’m never late.” He set his plate in the sink, thanked James, and then headed around the corner, stopping only a moment to look back at me. “Eighteen minutes now, Daisy.”
I hurried to take a bite, and he gave me an affirming nod before disappearing around the corner. I laughed, taking more bites, unable to stop the moan coming from my lips. “These are the best eggs I’ve ever tasted, James,” I said, and the chef smiled at me as he chopped up veggies, likely prepping for Asher’s dinner.
“Glad you like them, Daisy,” he said.
“Love them.” I took another few bites. “Is he always anal about time like that?”
James laughed. “Since I’ve worked for him.”
“How long have you worked for him?”
“Almost six years now.”
“Wow.” I focused on my breakfast, doing my best to get it down in the time allotted to me, and all the while wondering how the hell I was going to keep this up for twenty-nine more days.
I couldn’t be more different from Asher. I never worried about time unless I was up against a deadline, and I wrote when my characters spoke to me the loudest. I never set my alarm unless I had a date with my friends to be up for, and I most certainly didn’t have a workout routine. Sure, I didn’t mind running to clear my head, but nothing as regimented as what little I’d already seen of Asher’s schedule.
And if this morning was any indication, I could already guess the day ahead was only going to get more intense. Which meant this was going to be one long-ass month.
* * *
After Asher finished his shower, we headed promptly to his office in Reaper Arena where he spent two hours answering emails, then an hour reading the news and checking on his finances. I sat in an incredibly comfortable armchair across from his massive desk while he did this, taking notes on his schedule, but also flipping to my plot notebook in my tablet and jotting down ideas. I already had a couple of chapters written, but shadowing Asher had put a pause on my writing for the moment. I was here to absorb all the billionaire goodness—his quirks, his habits, anything to help me keep my character authentic.
The next three hours Asher held several meetings in a conference room a couple floors down from his office in Reaper Arena. I’d never seen so many suits in my entire life. Blue suits and black suits, striped suits and suits with peek-a-boo pops of color. I kept quiet, content to listen to Asher speak passionately about the topics at hand, which ranged from trade deals with the Reapers to an equipment production line he was involved in.
With all the negotiating and discussing, I quickly learned how to pick out the different tones of Asher’s voice, and he had several. Like, when he was bored, his voice took on a low, slow tone, and he almost always answered with short, one-word answers.
When he was passionate about the topic, his voice was full, rich and hopeful, and he always stood up, pacing the length of the long table as if he was too excited to stay seated. His hazel eyes held a fire in them during these conversations, almost like the gold flecks among the brown and greens were molten ore.
If Asher was offended by something one of the older suits said—often a jab at Asher’s young age regarding his fortune and success—he didn’t even bother speaking. And he sure as hell didn’t need to. The man cut the older would-be-joker to size with a look that had me sitting up straighter in my chair.
By the time the block of endless meetings came to a close, I’d smelled way too many different colognes and was this side of starving.
“What’s next?” I asked as Asher held the boardroom door open for me, motioning for me to leave first.
Asher glanced at his watch. “Lunch,” he said.
“Oh, thank God,” I said, my shoulders relaxing now that I knew we weren’t heading to another room full of money.
Asher chuckled, shaking his head as he followed me into the hallway. “You don’t have to stick to my schedule, Daisy,” he said, and something warm raked over my skin at the way he said my name. That tone I wasn’t a hundred percent on yet. It wasn’t bored or irritated, but it wasn’t his passionate one either. “If you’re hungry or tired, you can leave to tend to your needs.”
It was my turn to laugh as he guided me back into his office, where lunch had been laid out on his conference table.
“Something funny?” he asked, taking a seat at the table.
I sat across from him, unable to stop the smile on my face at the wonderful spread of food James must’ve delivered. Grilled chicken and greens, roasted vegetables and mashed sweet potatoes, and fresh fruit.