Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I burst out laughing. I’ve never met a woman with this kind of sexual confidence. People often say they’ve got no fucks to give, but something tells me this woman could say it and genuinely mean it. “Let’s do it,” I say. “I’d be honored to be your smoking buddy tonight.”
“You’re hired. Do you live close?”
“I do. I live in the Fairmont Building. It’s only about four blocks away.”
“Ooh la la. I’ve always wanted to see one of the fancy condos inside that building.” She flashes me side-eye. “Unless you’re a serial killer who’s planning to chop me up at your place.”
“I’m not. I mean, yes, I’m a serial killer, but I ran out of tarps last week, and I’m meticulous about keeping my carpets clean.”
“Not funny, Max.”
“It’s a little funny.”
She shakes her head.
“Aw, come on. It’s dark humor. Would a serial killer joke about being a serial killer?”
“Yes. That’d be a brilliant form of diversion.”
I roll my eyes. “Ask Grayson about me. He’ll vouch for me.”
“I don’t know Grayson from Adam. For all I know, he could be a serial killer, too.”
I laugh. “Look at the boy. Do you really think he’s capable of harming a fly—or even telling a lie, for that matter?”
Marnie looks at Grayson and mutters, “You’ve got a point.” She calls to Grayson across the table and asks, “Is Max a serial killer or otherwise prone to psychopathic or violent tendencies? Please advise.”
Grayson shakes his head. “Nope. He’s a workaholic, though. Also, a womanizer, if you want to know the truth. But he’s also the smartest person I’ve ever met in my life and a great friend.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” Marnie returns to me. “You’ve passed my extensive background check, Maximillian. Congratulations.” She rises. “Are you ready to go outside for a smoke now?”
I rise alongside her. “I am. I’m greatly looking forward to it.”
Marnie announces to her friends, “Hey, Max and I are going outside to smoke, ladies.” And not surprisingly, given what Marnie told me earlier, her friends respond with snickers, smiles, and playful comments. I gesture to Marnie to walk ahead of me, and then follow her mesmerizing, swiveling hips toward the front door. Hopefully, we’ll enjoy several “smokes” tonight. Highly memorable ones. And when it’s all over, I’ll kiss the hottest woman alive goodbye and happily never see her again.
3
MARNIE
Max’s building, The Fairmont, is a few blocks away. And it’s every bit as modern and luxurious as I’m expecting it to be. Based on the skyscraper’s masculine vibe, I’m guessing the builder was hoping to attract rich, successful bachelors, people like Max, to live in their gleaming, glass dildo, as opposed to families and single women. The whole structure screams “bachelor pad” like nothing I’ve seen before.
When we reach Max’s unit on a high floor, he opens his front door and motions for me to step inside. The minute I see Max’s home, and the meticulous way he’s chosen to decorate it, I can’t help smiling to myself. It’s exactly the living space I would have designed, if I’d been tasked to create one for a fictitious version of Max—the precise environment I’d expect a young, successful, smoking-hot patent attorney would choose for himself. The ceilings are high. The furnishings and décor, tasteful and sparse and every bit as modern and masculine as the building at large. Best of all, the living room we’re standing in features spectacular views through floor-to-ceiling windows.
“This place is gorgeous,” I whisper.
“Thanks.”
I walk toward the large windows. “And this view is breathtaking. Wow.”
“The view is the main reason I bought the place. Also, the location. It’s only blocks from the office, so I can walk to work most days.”
We stand together at the window and gaze at the twinkling skyline below, with Max pointing out various landmarks. As Max talks, I shift my gaze between his face and the view for the next several minutes, once again thinking about Alexander. Max reminds me of him. In fact, he looks like a younger, hotter version of the man who dented my heart. That’s what drew me to Max the moment I saw him. The fact that he reminded me of Alexander. After that, his incredible confidence, charm, and raw sex appeal drew me in even further. And the rest is history. I simply couldn’t resist, despite all my big talk at dinner about being done with meaningless sex. It's not completely my fault, though. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this instantly, insanely, drawn to someone. In fact, standing here now, I’m not sure it’s ever happened before. Not like this, anyway.
True, Max seems like a bit of a grump. A hardass. He’s most certainly emotionally unavailable. Oh, and his confidence often veers into flat-out cockiness. But for me, all those things are positives, not negatives. As embarrassing as it is to admit, Max checks all my boxes in terms of the kind of man who turns me on the most. Physically, anyway. But since I’m not going to date or marry him, that’s enough. Given what I came here to do, there’s no harm in going for my usual, toxic type. Especially for a last hurrah. In fact, I think it’s the smart thing to do. God help me, if Max were actually humble and overtly kind—the sort of man I’d want in Ripley’s life—and he also got my ovaries vibrating like a weed whacker set to high, I’d be well and truly fucked. And not in a good way.