Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I chuckle to myself. Excellent. Even Katie’s texts to me are grammatically perfect. We have a strong case.
On the way to the airport, I pull up one of my contacts at the local news station.
“Mr. Morrow?”
“I need to give a statement.”
“Regarding the recent exposé, sir?”
“Yes, among other things.” I tell all. Combined with Katie’s details from her publisher and the timestamps on emails and manuscript editions. My personal investigator’s on the case as well, matching Katie’s email styles to the email sent from her when she was back at Gran’s.
“And I’d like to give a public statement of apology as well,” I say. “Are you ready to record?”
And in the parking lot right by the runway before my plane takes off, I face the camera. And I do what I haven’t done publicly ever. I speak from my heart.
“Excellent, Mr. Morrow. Thank you, sir. This will air on this morning’s news.”
Chapter 19
Katie
He knows the truth, that I did not, nor would I, share his personal pain with the world. He’s sorry. He misses me.
And he wants me back.
Elation wells in my chest, making it hard to breathe. The grin on my face stretches so wide, my cheeks are sore.
He loves me.
There’s a knock on my apartment door. I swivel my head around and stare at the door. That can’t be him this soon! I mean, I know the man’s a billionaire, but even he can’t buy time travel.
Maybe he actually called me from his penthouse, and not Georgia like he said, wanting to surprise me. Maybe he is here, just on the other side of that door. I rush over grabbing the handle and flinging it open wide. “Darius you-”
My words catch in my throat. It’s Miranda, not Darius, who stands in my doorframe. She’s got a messy bun on the top of her head, matching my own, and her porcelain skin is free of makeup.
She’s dressed even more casually than when I last saw her, as she saved me from the hotel, wearing black leggings and spotless running shoes. Burgundy letters stretch across the chest of her oversized gray sweatshirt, proudly stating the word Harvard. An Ivy Leaguer? So, she’s as educated as she is beautiful. I’d expect no less from such a powerhouse businesswoman.
When she smiles, a shallow dimple appears on her left cheek, making her look younger than her age.
There’s no trace of her intimidating boss lady, hear me roar facade surrounding her now. She’s just Miranda—a girl who made her way in the world. She gives me a funny look. “Katie. Can I come in?”
I startle, realizing I’ve been standing there speechless, staring at her since she arrived. “Oh! Yes, sorry. Please come in.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I’ve brought some friends.” She reaches behind her, beckoning an entourage that was hidden from my sight. Who could it be?
They step out from behind the corner of the building and I recognize them immediately, the crew that Darius sometimes hires to get me ready for special occasions.
I’m happy to see them, but who can blame me for hoping that knock was my Prince Charming? I give what I hope is a welcoming grin. “Hi there. What are you all doing here?”
Miranda returns my smile with one that’s clouded with an air of mystery. She waggles her perfectly arched brows. “All in good time.”
I let them in. Wanting to play hostess as best I can, I brew a huge pot of coffee, digging up some of those little creamer cups I have in the back of my cupboards. Hovering at the counter, we make small talk. The conversation moves from the weather to the latest celeb gossip—present company’s own personal drama tastefully excluded from the conversation—to our favorite Vegas restaurants, mine, of course, being Opulence.
While we chat, the topic of the purpose of their visit does not come up, even though the crew sets up a makeshift hair and makeup station on my kitchen table.
This is getting weird. I retwist my bun on the top of my head, fidgeting until I can take no more. “Um... Miranda. It’s not that I’m unhappy to be seeing you all. I love company, in fact, it's just that... I’m not entirely sure what you all are doing here.”
One hand goes to her slim hip, the other lifts in the air. With her eyes avoiding me, she looks down at her watch, suddenly intent on the time. “Goody. It’s time! Let’s hit the living room.” Grabbing my hand, she tugs me over to the sofa, pulling us down onto the cushions.
The crew gathers around us, standing behind the couch.
What the heck is going on here? I’m pretty sure they didn’t come to doll themselves up and borrow my cable. Miranda picks up the remote, her brow knitting at its many buttons. She hands me the remote. “Run a million-dollar company, sure. Run a remote control? Not on your life. Turn this puppy on to channel twelve.” She tosses it to me, and I catch it midair.