Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
“I’ll probably suffer the consequences. Like no sex for another month.”
I laugh lightly. “You want me to talk to Moya? Maybe I can help.”
Sal breaks out in a proper belly laugh. “I don’t think my single, uncommitted, Romeo of a business partner talking to my wife is gonna cut it. But thanks for the offer.” He dives into his beer as soon as it slides across the bar.
I shrug and cast my eyes over to some of the guys, who are all hunched around a tall table. “Come on,” I prompt Sal, getting up from my stool. “Let’s go find out the office gossip.”
He drags himself off the chair and follows me to the table, and we’re welcomed with a few cheers and slaps on the shoulders. “All right?” I ask Mac, the manager of the accounts department, a tall ginger Scotsman.
He rests his beer on the table as the other guys start laughing. “The boys were just comparing notes on Sal’s new hot-as-fuck assistant.”
Oh. My stomach twists.
“Rein it in,” Sal says. “There will be none of that.”
“Good scoop.” Mac’s right-hand man, Jase, pipes up, blowing out a breath and fanning his face. “Jesus, have you seen the legs on it?”
My jaw tightens. It? “I’ve not looked.”
“Give me a break.” He laughs, and the rest of the group joins him. “It’s impossible not to. The tits, the arse, the curves. And don’t get me started on that face. Her fuckability factor is . . .” Jase fades off, a frown forming on his face, and the laughter of the group dies. “Hey, you okay? You’re sweating.”
I blink, the cloud of building fury clearing until I see everyone looking at me. “Don’t talk about her like she’s a fucking object,” I snap. “You sound like a load of sexist wankers.” I’m the biggest fucking hypocrite, what with my comments on the condoms. Reaching up, I wipe my brow, feeling the dampness, and then I look down at my fist clenched tightly around my glass. “It’s hot in here,” I say, taking a needed glug of my drink. “Another round?” I need to get away before I sock any one of them in the face.
A dozen glasses get raised in agreement, and I’m away from the group in a shot. “Hey.” Sal joins me at the bar, looking concerned. “You okay?”
“I’ve not eaten today,” I lie, waving the barman over. “Maybe I’ll order some food.” I couldn’t eat if I wanted to. My stomach is knotting terribly, and all the effort I’ve used to push Lainey out of my head is suddenly wasted. I feel strung. It must be obvious, and it’s a result of listening to those idiots summing up Lainey’s fuckability. Because, of course, I’ve not been doing that myself.
“Hey, Violet.” Sal says to the woman who heads up our digital department. She’s only been with us for a few months but is proving to be a great fit for Christianson Walker.
She smiles. Was that a coy smile? I glance over to Sal, finding him smiling right back. They’re flirting? I nudge him in the side and cock my head in question, making him frown as I hand him another beer.
“What are you having, Violet?” I ask.
“Gin and tonic, please.”
I order, keeping a watchful eye on them both as they catch up on the digital team’s planned social media reach over the next year. “Gin and tonic,” I confirm, pushing the glass toward her when the barman sets it down.
“Thanks, Ty.” She slips off the stool and goes to join the guys a few meters away.
“What was that?” I ask Sal, as he takes her seat.
“What?”
“The look. The smile. You were flirting.”
He scoffs. “I was not flirting, Tyler. I know the rules. Anyway,” he goes on, but is cut off by the sound of his phone. He groans when he checks who’s calling. “Bollocks.”
“Moya?”
“Yep.” He rejects the call, but a chime follows quickly, signaling the arrival of a text. “For fuck’s sake.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Sal mutters under his breath. “It’s just a ploy to get me home.”
“Well, you’re feeling brave.”
“I need man time. So kill me.” He sinks the rest of his beer and then orders a Scotch, taking a long swig as he wanders over to the others.
I chuckle and turn away from the bar, finding Gina. My amusement shrivels the moment I register her rosy cheeks. She’s been on the wine, which means my assistant will be spunkier than usual. And she’s quite spunky anyway. It also means I’m about to be grilled.
“Oh, Mac wants me.” I point my glass over her shoulder to no one—Mac’s nowhere in sight—not that Gina knows this. She’s too busy drilling accusing eyes into me. “Excuse me.” I go to pass her and get blocked.
“Not so fast, mister,” she says threateningly.
I’m immediately on the defense. “May I remind you who the boss is in this relationship?” I ask her in complete vain.