Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
A sound jolts me from my sleep. I sit up, blinking blindly before fumbling for my phone. Oh shit, it’s Kim, my boss at LOLA, the creative agency that employs me.
“Well, done!” she says brightly into my ear. For a moment I’m confused.
“What for?” I ask stupidly.
“Dylan Masterson! The CEO of Karmax!” she explains happily. Holy shit - is she congratulating me for fucking Dylan? Oh god, oh god. This is so twisted. What do I do now?
“Um,” I murmur, not knowing what to say. But Kim cuts me off.
“Mr. Masterson called the office and made another appointment with you! You must have done a great job, because Karmax wants you back for another assignment today!” she squeals.
Relief floods my chest. Oh, thank god. I didn’t fuck up. Instantly, I feel like an idiot for not realizing straight away what she meant.
“Well done, Fiona,” Kim continues chattering. “I’m so happy with your work on this. If we get the Karmax account, can you imagine how our business will grow? Our brand?” She's basically shrieking now, but I’m unable to respond. “Okay, you’ve clearly haven’t had your coffee yet, but get some joe and then get your ass over to Karmax! I’ll send you the deets,” she chirps. And with a click, my manager hangs up.
I have no idea what to make of this. Does Dylan want to see me again? It can’t be. He’s the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and I’m a lowly make-up artist. But what other explanation is there? Does he really need his make-up done again? That seems unlikely.
So I pack my bag slowly, confused and unsure. On the one hand, I’m excited to see the alpha billionaire. But on the other, I had sex with his twin just days ago. Do I tell him? Do I confess, or do I keep it a secret? Plus, what does Dylan think of me after our chance encounter? What kind of girl gives herself up to an older man she’s only just met?
Well, the voice in my head speaks, he was a willing participant too.
But it’s different for him – Mr. Masterson’s the incredibly hot, charismatic billionaire CEO of a huge corporation. He can do whatever he wants and get away with it, whereas I can’t get away with anything. Oh god, what do I do?
As I drive to the Karmax office, my thoughts swirl. With my stomach in knots, I decide the best course of action is to be professional. There’s probably a team there of photographers and lighting assistants, not to mention his assistant. So taking a deep breath, I brace myself. Be professional, the words chime in my mind. This is a job, nothing else.
But when I arrive at Dylan’s building, his assistant shows me directly into his office. There’s no one there. No photographers, no lighting team, and not even Dylan himself. His big chair sits empty behind a hulking granite desk with floor-to-ceiling views of the Hudson River spread out behind. I turn to his assistant with a puzzled expression.
“Mr. Masterson will be here shortly,” he assures me before scurrying away. Oh god. I feel silly now, carrying my make-up kit when there’s no sign of a meeting, but oh well. It always pays to be prepared.
Hurriedly I straighten my tight, high-waisted pencil skirt that hugs my wide hips and tapers at the waist. And I sassily unbutton the top of my shirt a little more just to get some air. It feels like all the oxygen in the room has disappeared, making it hard to breathe. I smooth my hair and pinch my cheeks, hoping to look a little more alive.
Suddenly, the door opens. Wearing an impeccable suit, Dylan steps in with a motion like quicksilver - so smooth and sure of himself. My breath stops in my throat. He closes the door and turns to smile at me with that slow, careful smile with one of the sides of his mouth higher than the other. That dimple. That sparkle in his blue eyes. That perfect jawline.
“Hey Fiona,” he says in his deep, pleasant voice. I can’t help but answer his warm voice with an involuntary smile. I feel shy.
“Mr. Masterson,” I say, trembling. “Good to see you again.”
“Call me Dylan, please,” he says, that deep voice making chills down my spine.
His hands go into his pockets as he looks at me steadily, taking me in with that penetrating blue gaze. All my nerves melt away instantly. There’s something in his smile that makes me feel safe and cared for, like whatever is about to happen is all in his control and he won’t let anything go wrong. He starts walking over to me slowly, sidestepping the leather couch and coffee table between us.
“Thank you for coming,” he rasps in that baritone voice. The CEO is impossibly handsome, destroying my resolve to play it cool. I can’t breathe and I can’t swallow because I want him too much. He grins as if it’s easy to read my mind.