Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“I could pay you back right now,” he says, leaning closer, pitching his voice low. “My office is nearby if you’d like a private tour.”
My eyebrows shoot up and my heart skips a beat. “Is that an innuendo, Mr. Quinn?”
“It could be.”
I bark a laugh right in his face. “I mean, you’re hot and all, but my favor is definitely not going to be of the sexual variety.”
He smirks and shrugs as if that’s not a big deal. “Another time then.”
I open my mouth to tell him absolutely not, no way that’ll ever happen, but if I’m honest with myself, I’m pretty sure we’re going to fuck until one of us dies at some point in the future. I mean, we’re getting married, and it’s not like I plan on being celibate until the day I die, and since I find him attractive—
And suddenly my cheeks are flushed, and I feel another bead of sweat roll down between my shoulder blades. But this time he notices, and his smirk gets bigger, because the bastard knows what just went through my mind.
“Just to warn you, I’m good at golf,” I say, banging my knee as I get to my feet too quickly. I curse and rub it, and I shake him away when he tries to help me. “I’m going to kick your ass on the links, hubster, mark my words. You’re going to regret bringing me.”
“Maybe I will,” he says, one hand on my elbow as he guides me to the door. I’m limping and feeling mortified, but I like the way he’s touching me and the protective slant of his body. “But maybe I won’t if you wear one of those cute white dresses with the short skirts.”
I blink at him as we step out onto the sidewalk together. His hand’s still on my arm, and we’re standing very close together, and I’m pretty sure he was flirting with me in there. No, not pretty sure, I’m absolutely sure, and I actually liked it. His lips are spread and I can imagine them on mine, the taste of his tongue in my mouth, the silky softness of him driving me wild as his rough heat presses me up against a wall—
“Elena? Are you okay?”
I wince and look over. Matty’s standing next to the truck eyeing Brody like he’s about to pull a gun.
“We’re all good,” I say and pull away from my fiancé. “Just having a conversation is all. Mr. Quinn, I’ll see you this weekend.”
Brody’s grin drives me absolutely freaking crazy. “I’m looking forward to it.” He nods at Matty and walks off; his long legs eating up the sidewalk, and I take a moment to admire his muscular ass.
Damn, that’s one good-looking man.
He pisses me off and he’s a grumpy little bastard, and he’s only nice when he wants something—
But damn, is he good looking.
“You’re blushing,” Matty says when I climb into the truck. “I guess that’s the guy you’re going to marry?”
“Sometimes I wish you were afraid of me,” I grumble at him.
“Nah, you don’t. I’m charming.” But he drops it and I’m left alone for the short drive back to the oasis, wondering if maybe I’m pushing myself a little too hard.
Chapter 5
Elena
I’m feeling good when I get home from La Colombe. I had a nice run-in with Brody and I’m already inserting myself into his life even though the first time we met, he looked at me like I was a venereal disease. But I meant it when I told him that I like doing people favors.
It makes me feel useful. That’s sort of pathetic, but it’s true. I’m a rich girl from an obscenely wealthy family, I didn’t go to college, and I’ve never had an actual job before. My whole life has been handed to me and I’m painfully aware of all the gobs of privilege oozing from all my pores. It’s great, being rich and having comfort, but it also means that I need to try twice as hard to make myself feel useful, because it’s not like I need to work to earn my living.
Which is why I love doing favors. When I’m helping someone, I’m actually a worthwhile human being for a little bit. And it’s obvious Brody needs me, since Omar Ali is a real pain in the ass, and there’s no way Omar’s ever going to like Brody, at least not without my intervention.
I’m drinking coffee and going for a little stroll when a car turns down onto the oasis, driving fast.
I freeze. Fear whips into me. A dozen or more guns are trained on the truck, and I flash back to the attack: armed and armored men flooding my home, shooting everyone, destroying whatever they got their hands on, making a mess and trying to ruin everything I love in the world.