Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Thanks, Laura.” His hair was still messy because he seemed to roll out of bed and head straight to his office to get to work. He was some kind of investment banker who’d opened his own company. He had an office in Paris as well as the US, so he traveled back and forth a lot. “I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”
“Of course. How can I help?” I hoped he didn’t need another outfit for tomorrow, because I’d have to bust my ass to make that happen in such a short amount of time.
“Would you join me tomorrow?” he asked. “My ex will be there, and I’d rather not go stag.”
Weren’t there a million girls he could ask? “I’m surprised you don’t have anyone else to ask.” Not only was he young and rich, but he was handsome. Could get laid by a different girl every night of the week.
“I feel like the other girls I know try too hard…if that makes any sense.”
Tried too hard to get a ring on their finger, probably. “Hayes, I’d love to help you out, but I try to keep my professional and personal lives separate.”
He gave a nod, but there was a flash of disappointment. “Yes, I understand.” He turned to walk away, his shoulders dropped like a wounded animal.
I felt so guilty that I changed my mind. “I’ll go with you, but just this one time.”
He turned back around, a smile bright on his face. “Thank you, Laura. I appreciate it.”
I sat at my vanity in my bedroom and clipped the earrings into place. My hair was in open curls, and I wore a black dress with my favorite necklace. I’d chosen something understated, still trying to look professional in my evening wear. If I were going out with Bartholomew, I would have chosen something very different, something that would drive him crazy until he snapped and took me against the bathroom wall.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I was supposed to meet at Hayes’s place, but maybe he’d forgotten what I said and came to pick me up instead. I got my heels on fast and hooked in the straps before I opened the door to let him in. “Hi—” My voice died in my throat when I saw it wasn’t Hayes on the doorstep—but Bartholomew.
His eyes immediately took me in, raking my body from head to toe, taking his time like he wanted me to feel the heat of his gaze. He was in his signature look, black on black, looking like a bad boy with a motorcycle parked out front. “Is this a bad time?”
He’d started to come by unannounced, just dropping by whenever he had some free time during his night. I was usually home working on my laptop, so I didn’t mind the unexpected visits, but now I was caught between a rock and a hard place. “I was just about to leave, actually.”
“Leave for what?” He welcomed himself into my apartment, his boots like anvils against the hardwood floor with every step he took.
“I have an event tonight. For work.”
“I didn’t realize that was part of your job description.”
“Not usually, but it happens.” Agreeing to be Hayes’s date for this dinner had felt innocent at the time, but now that I was in the room with Bartholomew, I realized how bad it would look if I told him about my plans. He would lose his shit just the way he did with Victor.
He took a seat in one of the dining chairs and looked at me. “What’s the event for?”
“Charity.”
“And this involves you how…?”
It was like he knew. I swear, this man knew everything. “One of my clients asked me to go with him. These events are a great way for me to be introduced to other people who need my services. On average, I’ll probably get twenty inquiries in a single night, so it’s great business for me.”
Bartholomew had clearly stopped listening after he’d heard the first sentence. His face was still, but his fair skin started to flush with a faint redness. Like a black hole, he sucked all the light and energy out of the room, ready to eject it as a bomb any second. “Him?”
“His name is Hayes—”
“Did I ask for his name?”
“Bartholomew—”
“Why the fuck are you going with him?” He was out of the chair, facing off with me.
“He just got divorced—”
“What does that matter?”
“He asked me to go with him as a favor—”
“He asked you to go with him so he can fuck you.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not why he asked—”
“Trust me.” He looked me up and down again. “That’s exactly why he asked.”
“Even if that were true, just because he wants to fuck me doesn’t mean he gets to—”
“But he gets to hold your waist and show you off like you’re his—when you’re fucking mine.”