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)
This was so bad. “You need to calm down—”
“You need to remember who you’re dealing with, Laura. I put men in oil drums and dump them out in the ocean. If you don’t want that to happen to your little friend, I suggest you call this thing off.”
“I already agreed to go with him—”
“Then unagree.”
I turned away from him, sick of his rage. “I’m going with him as a friend. It’s a great opportunity for me to meet other prospective clients who might need my services, and unlike you, I’m not a billionaire, so I need all the help I can get.”
“You want money? I can get you ten million in cash in the next hour.”
“Oh my god…” My hands went to my hips. “All I want from you is you—not your money.”
He stared at me, his breaths growing so deep they were noticeable.
“You’re acting like a psychopath right now.”
“Sweetheart, I’m the biggest drug dealer in France. Of course I’m a fucking psychopath.”
I walked up to him, seeing him struggle to sheathe his rage. “You don’t trust me?” My eyes moved back and forth between his. “You really think I’m looking to replace you with a watered-down banker?”
“That’s exactly what you want in a husband, isn’t it?” he asked coldly.
I wanted to step back because his comment felt like a slap. “I would think a man like you would be too confident to be jealous—”
“I’m not jealous. I’m possessive. I’m controlling. And I’m selfish. You think I’d let someone else drive my Bugatti? You think I’d give my wealth to those less fortunate? You think I share my power or keep it all for myself? And you expect me to be any different with you? You’re mine—and I don’t share.”
I almost cowered and called the whole thing off. “Look, he’s a big client of mine, and I can’t abandon him at the last minute—”
“Then I’ll be your fucking client.”
“I have to keep my word, Bartholomew. This will be the last time, I promise.”
He was furious. It was all in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
He turned around and walked out of my apartment, but he made sure to slam the door before he left.
It was a boring party.
Hayes introduced me to some people, and I was able to make connections with potential clients. He knew a lot of rich people, which was exactly the clientele I was looking for. People who were too busy to pick out their clothes and could easily afford a professional making them look good for all their occasions. Some of them were bankers. Others were business owners. The types of people that had businesses you never heard of but made them millionaires.
I kept thinking about Bartholomew. I feared our next conversation. I feared there wouldn’t be another conversation…
We had dinner and drinks, and at some point, Hayes pointed out his ex-wife.
She was a pretty blonde, and it looked like she had already moved on to husband #2.
The second Hayes saw that, he started to drink more…and more. The only person I saw drink like that was Bartholomew, but I suspected Hayes couldn’t hold his liquor the way he could. We eventually cut the night short, and the driver took us back to his place.
I hoped he would drop me off on the way, but he was probably too depressed to think about anyone else but himself.
Whatever, I’d take a cab.
His driver pulled in past the gates to his estate, and then he headed inside. An elevator took us to the ground floor, so I stepped out and prepared to walk out to the street and order a ride.
“Well, thanks for coming,” he said, hands in his pockets.
“Of course. I was able to connect with a lot of potential clients, so that’s great for business.”
He gave a nod.
“I’m sorry about your ex.”
“Took half my money…and then half my heart.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “Things will get better, Hayes.”
“Yeah? I’d like to believe that, but…”
I stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. The extent of my relationship with Hayes was small talk and measurements. I wouldn’t really consider us to be friends. “Well, good night.”
“It’s late…if you want to stay.”
Uh, awkward. “I’ve already ordered a ride. They’ll be here any minute.”
He gave a nod. “Well, I really appreciate your coming with me.”
“I’m happy to help—”
He grabbed me by the arm and leaned in.
I dodged out of the way so quick that he almost toppled over.
Fuck, Bartholomew was right. “Uh, I should go. Good night, Hayes.” I headed for the entryway before he could say anything more. I kept my word because I didn’t want to lose Hayes as a client, but now I’d lost him anyway…and put my relationship in jeopardy.
He didn’t take my calls.
I called him once a day, at the beginning of the evening when I knew he started his day. It went to voice mail every time. I never called him more than once because I didn’t want to blow up his phone and show my desperation.