Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Chloe plucks the card from his fingers. “I think you should call your brother and warn him to stay away from me,” she hisses.
Clayton tries uselessly to smother a smile, nodding his head. Chloe turns her back to us and fumes. I watch her shoulders sag as the elevator stops and the doors open.
Clayton leads me out of the elevator, kissing my temple. “Wait here, I want to get her settled in. It will only take me a moment,” he says against my skin.
He moves toward Chloe and guides her over to the door on the far left. My feet hurt, so I shift from foot to foot. I eye the carpeted hallway, contemplating taking off my shoes.
Before I can make the decision to do so, a loud crash comes from inside the apartment Chloe and Clayton entered. I almost jump out of my skin, but my mind kicks into gear swiftly. I head toward the apartment.
“You motherfucker,” Chloe screams before something crashes again. “How dare you?”
“Stop throwing shit at me and then we can talk,” a man with a deep voice booms. It isn’t Clayton, but it sounds a bit like him.
“Fuck you, Brodi, or Gregor or whoever the fuck you are,” Chloe sobs.
“Go, Clay, I’ve got it,” the guy commands. “Come here, baby. I know, I’m sorry.”
My brows wrinkle as I hear the last words. I’ve just stepped into the apartment when Clayton appears and starts to walk me back out. I push at his chest to get to Chloe. His big frame blocks my view into the apartment.
“Let them handle their own shit. Trust me, we don’t want to get in the middle of that if your friend is who I think she is,” Clayton whispers.
“What does that mean?” I hiss up at him.
“Those two have history. An ugly one at that,” Clayton murmurs.
“How do you know?” I follow him as he leads me away, but I can’t help looking over my shoulder, back at the apartment door.
“I knew it. It makes sense now. Chloe is Cee,” Clayton says as if talking to himself. He shakes his head and keeps moving.
When we arrive at the door on the right side of the hall, Clayton opens the door with the key card in his hand. I follow him into the apartment and stop in my tracks. The place is amazing. Frosted glass provides the illusion of a front room.
It’s decorated with a small table that holds a glass vase full of white roses. Black-and-white paintings hang on the bright-red accent wall. It’s bold, but I like it.
Clayton removes his jacket from my shoulders, and I bend to unfasten my shoes. I step out of them and kick them aside by the door. Cool marble greets the soles of my feet. I wiggle my toes and make a small sighing sound.
Clayton grabs my shoes and steps behind me, placing a kiss on my neck. “You look exhausted. I can show you around in the morning,” he says in my ear.
“I’ll be going home in the morning,” I yawn in protest.
“No, you won’t.” He chuckles. “We have things to do. I’ve set up a few meetings and we meet with the wedding planner.”
I spin in his arms. My brows drawn. “Wedding planner?” I choke. “I thought we were just pretending to be engaged?”
“Planning a wedding is all part of the pretending.” He smiles down at me.
He begins to roam down my back toward my ass with his hand. I grab his wrist. “I’d like for you to show me where I’ll be sleeping for the night,” I say pointedly.
He kisses my forehead, that smile on his full lips again. Yet, he begins to lead me through the apartment. I take in the expensive, spotless hardwoods. The contemporary and masculine decor, all within an open floor plan.
The living space is open to the kitchen. It’s very spacious and has divine views from the large glass wall of windows. It’s all stunning.
We get down the hall and walk up a staircase to a partially open loft space. At the top of the stairs is a frosted glass door. Clayton opens it and leads me inside. It’s a vast bedroom space with a large king-size bed. It’s a gorgeous design, very unusual.
“I have a partner who’s an architect. He comes up with the craziest ideas and makes them happen. This place was nothing like this when I purchased it,” Clayton says, looking around.
“It’s very nice. Okay, good night.” I turn to him expectantly.
His smile grows as he begins to remove his cuff links while stepping out of his shoes. I lift a brow, my eyes glued to him. Removing his socks first, he then moves farther into the room and flicks on a switch. The wall behind the bed illuminates.
“Our closets are behind that wall. Your things are on the left side,” he says. “The bathroom is in the center. You can walk through either closet to get to it.”