Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 92835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Mom never gave me the full story. But the facts are clear. He married her, stuck around for long enough to knock her up again, left for a younger woman.
Asshole.
But, hey, I'm not here to work out my daddy issues either. I'm here to make everyone jealous.
And while I can't push everyone's buttons, I can push Mr. Fitzgerald's.
"My mom was wild," I say. "She didn't care who approved of her choices. Short hair, tattoos, leather pants. The whole nine yards."
"Did you rebel by wearing pencil skirts?"
"No. She was always supportive of my passion for art." I'm not telling him about my personal rebellion. "I just don't like pants. Dresses are much more comfortable." I spin on my heels. Show off the low back of my gown.
When I put it on, I thought it was too much.
With Adam staring like he's going to consume me, it's too much in a different way.
I need the fabric gone.
I need his hands on my skin.
Now.
Here.
I don't care who sees, as long as he touches me.
"And easier too," I say. "A dress is an entire outfit."
"Is that dress really easier than jeans and a t-shirt?" Mr. Fitzgerald asks.
"I can never find jeans that fit." I smooth my dress. "The curse of wide hips."
His eyes follow my hands. "You wear it well."
"Thank you."
Adam slips his arm around my waist. "Liam is running late."
"Oh?" I ask.
"His date." Adam shakes his head don't ask. "Let's have a drink."
"On me," Mr. Fitzgerald says. "To celebrate your new love."
I look to Adam, but he's back to perfect poker face.
"That's kind of you, Cole," he says, suddenly familiar.
"It's nothing, Adam. Only what your brother would have wanted." Mr. Fitzgerald motions after me.
Adam shoots him a sickly sweet smile. One equal parts you're full of shit and I'm going to kill you with kindness.
Or maybe just I'm going to kill you.
I have no idea what the fuck these two are doing.
And I lose interest the second Adam presses his palm into my lower back.
His hand feels right on my skin.
Warm and steady and sure.
He leads me to the bar on the right side of the restaurant. It's like Adam's house, something out of an old movie. High ceilings, chandeliers, curved windows letting in the skyline.
A dozen tables, well-spaced, quiet, classy.
The bar is the same. Long with plenty of room between stools and a cute blonde bartender in a snug black dress.
Adam's fingers glide over my lower back as he leans in to whisper, "I can order a bottle."
"Is that what you're drinking?"
"Only when Trish insists."
"What do you normally drink?"
"Whatever the lady is drinking."
"You're a charmer now?"
"When I have to be." He traces a line up my spine. Then back down it.
"A grapefruit martini. With gin please," I say to the bartender.
When she asks if I have a preference, Adam names a top-shelf brand. "Two."
"Make it three." Fitzgerald brandishes his credit card. "On me. Please."
Adam pulls me closer. "Only if I can buy you and your wife a round. To celebrate your love."
"How is Celine?" I ask. "She has such great taste."
"Celine. I'm not sure we've met," Adam says. "How do you know her, angel?"
"I don't. Only through Mr. Fitzgerald." I lean into his touch. "You buy for her, don't you?"
"Some for her. Some for me." He looks to Adam. "You know women. They always have final approval."
"Danielle is the artist. I trust her taste," he says.
"Have you bought pieces for the Pierce manor?" Mr. Fitzgerald asks.
"Yes," I say. "I bought the DeLaney set. I know you were interested, but I had to have them."
"And I offered double asking the second I saw her eyes light up." Adam turns to me. He keeps one hand on the small of my back. Brings the other to my chin.
He cups my cheek as he pulls me into a soft, slow kiss.
The rest of the world disappears.
It's only Adam's hands on my skin and his lips on my lips and his hard, warm body against mine.
When he pulls back, I'm dizzy.
My surroundings return to me slowly. Adam's deep blue eyes. His slate grey suit. The shimmering crystal of the chandelier.
The bartender, placing our drinks on the counter.
Adam's fingers brush mine as he passes me the drink. He holds his up to toast. "To The Voyeur."
"To young love," Mr. Fitzgerald butts in.
"To love. Yes." Adam shoots him a smile. "To love and the lengths we'll go for it."
Mr. Fitzgerald returns an equally sharp smile as he raises his glass.
He toasts Adam. Then me.
Then Adam turns to me, and the world disappears again.
His blue eyes are so gorgeous.
And he's so close.
Because of our ruse.
Because he wants to prove something.
But then I want to prove something too.
Fuck Mr. Fitzgerald for staring at Adam like he's a deformed creature who can barely survive.
I'm not letting him get away with that.
Adam taps his glass against mine. Brings it to his lips. Takes a long sip.