Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Goodness, Barc,” Victoria says with a pained tone. “You’ve fallen in love with her, haven’t you?”
I turn to face my sister, letting her witness my agony. She places a hand on my arm, tilting her head and sighing, knowing my answer without me uttering a word.
“Does Mother know?” Her eyes fill with concern.
“No one knows, and it has to stay that way. She’s my employee. We can never happen.”
“I’m sorry, Barc. I wish there was something I could do.”
I linger on the terrace long after Victoria leaves, only joining the party after I’ve finished off my drink and need a refill.
Another bourbon later, I’m mingling with the crowd of revelers. It will likely be my father’s last executive birthday party. The doctors say his memory for faces and names may not last another year. But today, he seems on top of the world as everyone wishes him happy birthday.
Not far from my father, I watch Tessa and Mark. He says something to her, and she hesitates, looking away. When she glances back at him, her lips form the word, “okay.” Mark answers with a smile saved for winning a million-dollar lottery, because I believe he won something more worthy than he deserves. Her.
I stride toward them, needing to know if she’s agreed to go out with him. My stomach twists at the thought of this man’s hands on her. As I near them, I slow my pace and take a couple breaths, trying to regain control of this fire racing through my veins.
“Hello, Barc—I mean, Mr. Hammond,” Tessa says. Her bright blue eyes dart between Mark and me in worry.
“Mr. Hammond,” Mark addresses me. I stuff my hands inside my pockets before he tries to shake either one. Very grown up, Barclay. “Great party, sir.”
“Yes, some of us seem to be enjoying it more than others,” I scoff, causing Mark to look at me confused.
“I think he means some people have nothing left in their glass.” Tessa holds up an empty champagne flute for the save. Southern women and their polished manners.
“Here, let me get you another. I’ll be right back.” Mark takes her glass and scurries toward the bar like a love-struck man. Bastard.
“Barc,” Tessa warns through a fake smile. “What’s the matter with you? All the executive staff is here, so you better be careful.”
“What did he ask you?” I demand.
“Oh God, please not here.” She lowers her head, shaking it.
“Follow me and plaster on a big fat grin like you mean it.”
I casually lead her across the manicured grass to the stone patio. Since everyone’s mixing company ranks at the party, no one seems to take notice of us.
Our final destination is a game room inside the lower level. I open the patio French doors for Tessa and glance back toward the party. I can’t see anyone, even at my height, meaning we’re hidden from prying eyes.
“Through the doors and to the right. The room with the pool table,” I tell her, and Tessa follows my orders, but her searching eyes show concern.
Once we’re both in the room, I close the door and lock it. There aren’t any outside windows, so we have total privacy. Tessa leans her lovely ass against the pool table, arms across her chest. I stalk toward her, placing my hands on either side of her thighs, gripping the felt covered edge of the table.
I stare down at her. She has eyes like the clearest morning sky, pouty lips begging for my kisses, and a hint of cleavage that drives me insane.
“What’s going on with Mark?” I say his name with disgust. Tessa avoids my question and glances down at the floor.
“Please answer me?” I ask quieter, ratcheting down my anger laced voice. “I shouldn’t take out my frustrations on you.”
“You don’t think I’m frustrated too?” She meets my gaze, fire in her eyes. “Being so near you at the office. Friendly texts with you when I’d rather be doing other things. It’s driving me mad.”
She pushes one of my hands off the pool table, freeing herself, then walks away from me. When she stops, I notice her slumped shoulders slightly moving up and down. Shit, I’ve made her cry.
Unable to keep a proper distance from her, I turn her toward me and pull her into my arms. She folds into my chest, so small and delicate. I want to tell her it’s going to be okay, wash away her hurt, but I don’t see a way out of our dilemma. She begins to calm as I caress her back in soothing motions.
“Just being friends isn’t working out very well, is it, sweet girl?” She peers up at me with soft, watery eyes that break my heart. A tear falls down her cheek, and I brush it away.
“It’s horrible, Barclay.” Her voice quivers. “I met your father today. He’s a lovely man, just like you. The consequence of us being together became more real to me. I only have a lifestyle to lose, find another job in the city or elsewhere, but your loss is a legacy built by your father. I can’t be the woman who causes it to burn to the ground.”