Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
That was intense.
And I left all the papers scattered. Oh my God. What am I doing?
The investigation is launched and there’s little more we can do but wait as his hired financial team from another branch make their way to Houston to figure out what has gone wrong. It’s an expensive process and that’s why he goes first usually. He has so many things to deal with, but then he is CEO so it’s to be expected.
We head out after stopping for lunch as he speaks on the phone to Pax of all people. When he offers the phone to me, I shake my head rapidly, feeling panicked, and hide behind a street vendor.
He laughs and says something to Pax, then laughs again and moments later they end the call.
“Did you just hide from a phone call? You answer the phone all the time.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know what to say unless it’s about the business or you.”
“Tell him how you are, what you’re doing, where we’re going.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing or where we’re going,” I mumble, passing stores along the way. “Did you tell him I didn’t want to talk to him?”
“I did,” he admits, chuckling when my jaw hits the floor.
“Oh my God. Why would you tell him that?”
“Because he asked to speak with you.”
“So make an excuse!”
“Like what?” He’s finding all of this so amusing.
“Like… like I’ve been hit by a car or something.”
His strong throat moves as he laughs, drawing the appraising eyes of those around us. They like what they see. Not me, but him. He’s a tanned, dark-haired, Italian American with a sharp jaw and thick brows. Age has been kind to him.
I look like milk compared to him. My skin is so white, my hair dark brown with a reddish tint, like chocolate dipped in wine. I stand out like a ghost. Not like some of the exotic beauties I’ve seen pass us and give him the eye. It’s almost embarrassing.
“What do you want to do?” he asks, something he has never asked me before.
“Find something to wear… I really need to. It’s tomorrow night and he’s basically seen my entire wardrobe at work.” I peek up at Mr. C. “You don’t have to come but I really do need to find an outfit.”
That’s my nice way of saying please leave me alone because normally he does. We don’t do this. This isn’t our thing. Usually I get to sightsee, and he stays at the hotel.
“Maybe I can help? Give you a man’s eye?”
I raise a brow. “That’s not happening, we all know what you think of my style.”
“Yeah… I’m a dick.” When I say nothing he scoffs a comical, “You’re supposed to say, no, Ezra, you’re not a dick, I forgive you.”
“And deny you your truth? It’s not often people experience epiphanies, I’m not about to get in the way of that.”
He shoves me so hard I almost fall then grabs my hand to pull me in an attempt to stop my descent, but he yanks me so hard I come back like a yoyo and slam into his chest making him grunt and dig his heels in. The entire time he’s laughing, whereas I’m clinging to the front of his shirt feeling rattled.
I glare up at him. “You’re such an ass.”
“You’re so weightless. I almost threw you through that store window.”
“I know,” I grumble, still clinging to his shirt.
He looks down at me, his hands gripping just above my elbows and something warm and comforting transpires between us. Something that drowns out the rest of the world. People walk around us as our gaze holds and my vision narrows onto him and only him.
My eyes flicker to his lips as the steady beating of his heart against my knuckles lures me in, drawing me closer.
His smile fades and his hands squeeze tighter. He swallows and traces the lines of my face with gunmetal gray eyes, so sharp and heady.
I feel him dip his head a fraction, his eyes on my moistened lips as though they’re magnets to his.
“Move!” a jogger yells and I’m shoved into Mr. C so hard my cheek squishes against his chest.
“Hey,” I whine, turning around to look for the culprit but he’s already down the street flipping me the bird over his shoulder. “ASSHOLE!”
“Come on,” Mr. C mutters, guiding me away. “Let’s find you something to wear for your date.”
Whatever that was it’s broken now so I don’t have to think about it anymore. He seems content to ignore it too. I probably imagined it anyway. The connection… the chemistry… the electricity crackling in the space around us…
It was all in my head.
I’m tired and excited to hopefully get laid and end on a good number this time.
Now I’m nervous again. I don’t know how to do sex.