Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 111278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Because unfortunately, Chad, the giant asshole, had also been her boss.
If she’d told Reuben, he would have ruined him.
She could still tell him.
Urgh, no. She didn’t need Reuben getting involved.
“Right. Focus. You need to get to work.” She pushed herself off the bed to unpack.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t actually eaten since breakfast.
Yep. She really wasn’t great at this adulting stuff. The doctors had warned her to slow down, eat better, stress less, and get some exercise regularly. Yet, for the last few days all she’d done was sit on her ass, live on energy drinks, and drive way too fast.
“Still didn’t deserve a damn speeding ticket.”
If you had a Daddy, you probably wouldn’t be sitting properly right now.
Grabbing a change of clothes, she jumped in the shower. She’d head over to Delicious for dinner.
No time like the present to start work.
The owner of Delicious was a misogynistic prick.
He kind of reminded her of Chad. Which was low praise indeed.
He moved around the restaurant like he was the freaking King, eye-fucking anyone that had breasts and was under thirty. And it didn’t matter whether they were with someone or not.
Some of the women were lapping it up, too. Flirting with him openly. And she’d seen him sending a few drinks out to several women at the bar.
Gross.
She hoped like fuck that he wasn’t putting anything in those drinks. Perhaps she should move to the bar and check.
But then one of the servers put a huge bowl of carbonara in front of her and her stomach grumbled embarrassingly loudly.
The server grinned at her as she felt herself growing red.
“Sorry. Been a long time since breakfast.”
“Tut-tut, you shouldn’t skip lunch,” he chided.
She just smiled at the server as he refilled her water glass. Well, at least the wait staff were good here. Which meant that their boss might have some redeemable qualities.
Then he suddenly appeared next to the server. Awesome.
“Ahh, I see you’ve ordered the carbonara,” he said in a smooth voice. “A wonderful choice.”
“I thought so.” Only now, she didn’t have much of an appetite.
“I don’t eat it much as I’d have to go for an hour run the next day to work off the calories,” he said.
And now she was officially turned off. She put her fork back down.
What an ass.
Who said that? And about a dish in their own restaurant?
Unless he just said it to make you feel bad.
She narrowed her gaze, taking in the stiff way the server stood and the smarmy look on David Davidson’s face.
Yep. That was his name.
Even his parents had hated him. Maybe he’d come out of the womb with that obnoxious smile on his face.
But she wasn’t going to let him get the best of her. She was made of tougher stuff than that.
So she leaned back in her chair and looked him up and down.
“Poor metabolism?” she drawled. “It happens as people age. Muscle turns to fat. I’ve seen it happen with so many men. I’ve also heard that it can affect their performance.”
That smile dropped from his face.
Ding-ding.
“What?”
“You know . . . their running performance. It can be harder to get moving. The body starts to ache. Recovery time is longer. Have you been experiencing any performance issues?”
Her server started to choke, and Davidson turned to glare at him. “Shouldn’t you be serving someone else, Clarke? Isn’t that what I pay you for?”
Okay . . . she took it back. He wasn’t a good boss if this was how he talked to employees.
“Uh, yes, sir. Sorry.”
Before poor Clarke could leave, though, Davidson grabbed his arm, making him freeze.
Hmm. Gwen really didn’t like this asshole.
“Actually, Clarke, perhaps you could box up Ms. . . .”
“Anderson,” she supplied as he stared at her.
Some people probably thought he was attractive with his smooth skin, waxed eyebrows, and plump lips, but there was such a thing as too much plastic surgery.
“Perhaps you could box up this food for Ms. Anderson. I’m sure she’s realized that this isn’t her sort of place.” He looked her up and down with a sneer.
Wow. She was shocked that he had any customers with this snooty, elitist attitude.
“Really?” she drawled. “I think I like it here just fine.”
Plus, she had to find something to use to ruin him.
When Reuben had asked her to come to Wishingbone to look into a guy called David Davidson, who had been saying nasty things about his sister, and ruin him . . . well, she hadn’t been entirely onboard.
Ruining other people’s lives was more Reuben’s thing than hers. But she’d decided she’d make up her own mind about him.
Well, it hadn’t taken him long to help her figure out what she needed to do.
This guy was definitely going down. To hell. All the way down.
Fuck. Stop rambling, Gwen.
“Believe me, it’s not. I’m sure you’d be far more comfortable at home, on your sofa, in comfy loungewear with an elastic waist with your two cats, than here.”