Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
There are a lot of probablys in her line of thinking, but I say nothing. What can I say? What I have told her is sort of the truth. Knowing her and what she had hoped would happen between her and the billionaire the truth will be even more unpalatable.
"Let’s follow up with his secretary tomorrow. She did say that I could contact her when and as needed."
"Alright," I say, and for some reason this makes me feel childishly relieved even though I am very well aware that it is pointless for Sasha to call his secretary. He has told me in very explicit terms exactly what he wants—me in exchange for purchasing the house. I shouldn't have considered his offer for even one second, but for a few revealing seconds I did entertain it, and as we head back to the office it is clear to me why.
Because for those few seconds, every fiber in me wanted to say yes. I have never wanted to say yes more in my life. If I had met him in a club I would have gone home with him without a second thought. If he had not made sex a condition, it would have been an easy yes. A very easy yes.
Sighing, I stare out at the skyline and the beautiful city and can't help but feel even sadder despite the fact that the sun is out. Everyone will be expecting good news and now they will get the news that Sasha wasn’t allowed to do the viewing and I had fucked up, but because I am the boss’s daughter, they will be forced to hide their feelings and only be able to gossip amongst themselves about my incompetency. I hate the idea, but there is nothing I can do. Just as we arrive, I turn to Sasha.
"Please tell the others what's happened. I have to go to my father."
"Um..." she replies. "I'm not sure I know exactly what the story is."
"It's just like I told you. He had a busy day and had to hurry out and it is unlikely that he will buy the house."
She looks irritated. “Why do you have to give up so fast? He hasn’t said no, so as far as I am concerned, there is still hope and that is what I’ll be telling everybody.”
My phone rings suddenly and as I retrieve it from my pocket, an errant thought flashes into my brain: is it him? The instinctive thought and surge of excitement that comes with it bothers and maddens me. I hate to admit to entertaining even the slightest twinge of hope that he is on the other end. He is an insolent, presumptuous, misogynist brute with money to burn and there is no walking back from that. Wanting anything to do with him would be insane.
I tell myself that I am just checking in order to be on guard and once again communicate that any further insistence on his part will be met with legal action. That I’ll sue him for sexual harassment. I have no idea how I would go about doing such a thing, but the idea seems apt and plausible. That will teach him to go around trying to buy unwilling women. A little voice in my head laughs at the idea that I was unwilling, but I banish the irritating voice. I see my dentist’s name on the screen and the forbidden thrill inside me deflates instantly.
I confirm my appointment for later in the week, then head over to my father's office, but just as I knock on the door he pulls it open.
"Hey," he says with the biggest smile on his face. "I heard you guys were on your way back. I was about to come out to meet you."
His eyes are sparkling and alive in a way that they haven't in a very long time. I know about his difficulties and how worried he has been about keeping this place open, and my heart plunges at the thought of giving him the bad news. Behind me, I can hear Sasha giving everyone the less than enthusiastic news and I can feel the excitement in the air drop.
“Hey, Dad.”
With his hand on my arm, he pulls me into his office.
"Don't do that," I say. "You know I don’t want you to treat me differently than everyone else."
"Fuck them," he replies and looks at me intently. "Have you been drinking?”
“I had a glass of champagne.”
“At this time of the morning?” He frowns. “What’s wrong? You look like a smacked puppy."
I stare into his anxious eyes. What do I tell him? The truth so I can take the blame off my shoulders right now? Or the same story I told Sasha so I can have a little more time to think about what to do next? It isn't that I am considering the offer, it's just that I don't want to let everyone down. Especially my father. Even the thought of seeing the light go out of his eyes fills me with dread.