Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I bit my tongue and typed the message for her.
HazelSwiftRogueCEO:
I don’t find this intrusive at all, as I love getting to know people this way, too. I’m obsessed with romance, fantasy, and nonfiction.
“Thanks!” She didn’t take her phone. “Can you answer the other seven messages he sent and bring that to my office when you’re done? Oh, and can you handle the Dean files and the translation files before that?”
“You mean, all the work you’re supposed to do?”
“What was that, Chloe?”
“Nothing.” I smiled. “I said I’ll get right to it.”
“Okay, awesome!”
I waited until she disappeared before heading to the editorial department.
I was halfway down the hall when a series of sharp pains stabbed my stomach. Then something rose up my throat.
Rushing to the restroom, I locked myself in a stall and bent over the toilet, vomiting for the second time this morning.
What the hell did I eat yesterday?
Stepping out, I walked to the sink and splashed my face with cold water.
I bet it was those tacos.
“Is your day really this bad already?” My favorite coworker, Sandra, stepped next to me.
“It’s a million times worse than you could ever imagine.”
“Glad I’m still a lower-level employee then.” She laughed. “I figured Miss Swift would want the Dean files today, so I sent those to her office. That should buy you about thirty minutes of freedom.”
“Thank you so much, Sandra.”
“I didn’t do it out of altruism.” She pulled out a ‘Single at Thirty Podcast’ notebook and a sweatshirt, looking sheepish. “Your best friend is downstairs waiting for you. Can you ask her to autograph these for me?”
“You buy her merch?”
“I love her podcast.” She looked like an anxious little girl. “Please?”
“Sure thing.” I grabbed them and headed downstairs, grateful for the reprieve.
When I made it to the lobby, Kristin held out a bagel and a bottle of Tylenol.
“You’re the best,” I said. “Truly.”
“Ah, ah, ah.” She lifted them high, keeping them out of reach. “Did you call William and ask for a repeat yet?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Why would I do that?”
“I can think of several reasons.”
“Give me the top three.”
“One, because you’ve spent the last three weeks telling me you would. Two, you’ve been speaking in a weird-ass British accent for the past few weeks. And three, so you can stop randomly bringing up how you sat on his face in the middle of every conversation we have.”
“I haven’t brought it up in every conversation.”
“Every single one.” She rolled her eyes. “You literally called me in the middle of a business meeting to brag about it.”
“Did your secretary hear me?”
“Everyone heard you.”
I reached for the bagel, but she held it even higher.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “Maybe I’ve gone a little overboard with my thoughts about him. What am I supposed to say if I call? ‘Hey. Sorry about the way I kicked you out last time. Let’s forget that part ever happened and have sex again?’”
“Uh, yeah.” She finally gave me my breakfast. “That’s actually the perfect place to start.”
“I’ll have to do it whenever I get home. It’s not like I carry around all the shredded parts of his—” I stopped talking when she held out the re-taped purple post-it. She’d laminated it, too.
“I stopped by your place to handle this on my way over here,” she said. “By the way, that is the cleanest your room has ever been. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.” I made a mental note to take back my key. “I’ll call him at lunch.”
“You’ll call him now,” she said. “Or I’ll block your calls until you do.”
“It’s too early in the morning to call him, Kristin.”
“It’s four thirty in the afternoon over there.”
“What if he’s forgotten about me?”
“You’ll call to remind him.”
Out of excuses, I pulled out my phone, typing in William’s number. I added an untraceable code ahead of it before hitting call.
It rang once.
It rang twice.
“Hello?” His sexy voice crossed the line, and I almost forgot why I was calling. “Hello?”
“Heh-loh, mate.” I attempted my best British accent.
“Who the hell is this?”
“Someone across the pond you might know…”
“What the hell are you doing?” Kristin mouthed, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“How did you get this number?” he asked.
“You um…” I tried to remember the word from a historical, British romance. “You relinquished it to me a few weeks ago.”
“I guarantee that I didn’t,” he said. “I only give it to a select few. What’s the name of the press that put you up to this?”
“Press?” I racked my brain for what the American English term for that was. “No press. I’m calling because…”
Drop the accent and tell him you want sex.
“I don’t appreciate you calling my personal line to try me, and I don’t appreciate playing these games.” His voice was suddenly terse.“If you wanted a direct quote or a picture from me, there’s a far more ethical way to do this.”