Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath before I open the square, flat box.
White tissue paper stands in the way of my gift and me, so I fold it back.
My breath catches in my throat when I see what’s inside.
Before I can pick it up, I sense he’s near. I glance at the doorway to find him there.
“Kavan.” His name comes out wrapped in a tremor. “It’s my scarf.”
He stalks toward me to pull the black and white polka dot scarf from the box. “This one is a little different. It’s silk and there is a special label sewn on it.”
I snatch it from his hands. Turning it over and over I struggle to find the label.
When I do, I read the words stitched on it out loud. “If lost return to Juliet Bardin. Future Pulitzer Prize winner. Lover of PB and J.”
My head falls back in laughter. “This is officially my favorite scarf now. Thank you. This is incredibly thoughtful of you.”
He slides it from my hands to wrap it around my neck. “I know that your deepest secrets have nothing to do with scarves, Juliet.”
I look into his eyes. “You’re right.”
His hands tug on the ends of the scarf to bring me closer so he can kiss me softly.
I melt into it, resting my hands on his chest. I feel the strong beat of his heart.
“Trust me to guard your secrets,” he whispers.
Staring into his eyes, I reach up to cup his cheek in my hand. “Only if you trust me to guard yours.”
His lips part, but no words escape him.
He kisses me again with so much tenderness that I lose my breath when it breaks.
“I love my gift,” I confess softly, wanting to say more.
I want him to know how I feel.
I’m falling…hard, fast, and willingly in love with him.
“I’d give you the world if I could, Juliet.”
I don’t want that.
All I want is his heart and I don’t know if that’s something he’ll ever give me.
I type out the last word on my article detailing Kavan’s vision for the future of Bane Enterprises.
It’s not as thorough as I had wanted, but it’s informative, and I know it will convey the message that Kavan wants it to.
People will see that under Kavan’s guidance, Bane Enterprises has acquired several small companies that have become strong contenders within their relevant markets.
I accentuated that with quotes from the former owners of the video game and print-on-demand greeting card company. When I interviewed them on the phone a few days ago, both had nothing but kind words about Kavan’s commitment to following their visions when it came to the growth of the enterprises they had launched years before.
I stare at the screen of my laptop.
This is the article that I should hand in to Mr. Marks for his approval.
If I do that, it closes the door on the piece that I’ve been working on that is more personal and reaches beyond the scope of Kavan’s business. I may never show that to anyone because it feels so intimate.
Sighing, I save the document and snap the cover of my laptop shut.
My favorite professor always told me to take a day to sit on your words before you show them to anyone, so that’s what I’m going to do.
I hear footsteps on the approach down the corridor, so I glance toward the doorway.
Nigel pops his head in. “How are you doing, Juliet?”
“I think I’m going to call it a day.”
He nods before he steals a glance over his shoulder. “If you could stay in your office for the next fifteen minutes, you’d have my eternal gratitude.”
You can’t say something like that to an investigative journalist and expect them to stay put.
“Why?” I ask with a sweet smile that I hope will lure the truth from Nigel.
“I can’t say,” he answers softly.
“You can say,” I correct him. “You just don’t want to.”
He pops a finger in the air. “Touché.”
“I could pretend I didn’t hear you and wander out into the main living room,” I suggest with a tilt of my chin. “It’s not like I’m going to come across Mr. Bane doing something he shouldn’t, right? Is he out there eating a frozen pizza or a candy bar?”
His hearty laughter fills the air. “Those are sights I’d long to see.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
He steps into my office far enough that he can close the door behind him. “May I speak frankly, Juliet?”
I cross my legs and turn toward him so he knows he has my full attention. “Please do.”
He heads for the vacant chair and sits down. His fingers migrate to the pin on his lapel. Today it’s a bluebird. The color of the rhinestones is vibrant against the dark material of his suit jacket.
“I’ve known Kavan for his entire life.” His voice has a tremor in it. “I’ve watched him grow from a playful boy into a troubled teen, and now, into a man.”