Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
"Can you get me anything? In my apartment?" she asks.
"Or outside your apartment. I'm here to help," he says.
"Uh… I'm good. But Eve will want that when she gets up. And I'm not waiting." Footsteps move toward my door. "Evie. Company. From…"
"Mr. Hunt," the man says.
"You didn't tell me you have a rich boyfriend," she says.
The man chuckles. Amused by their conversation. Or maybe Addie's expression. She's very expressive. And funny. In a different way than I am.
"He sent his… I'm sorry, Lock, right?" she asks.
"Yes, thank you, Ms. Miller."
"What should I call you?"
"Lock is perfect."
She laughs. "Are you an assistant or…"
"That's a close enough description," he says.
An assistant? With a British accent? I guess that makes sense.
According to the articles I browsed, Ian has only been in New York for a few years. He still does a lot of business in London. Though people speculate he avoids the city.
Because of his ex-wife.
He hasn't mentioned his marriage. I don't know if it's appropriate to ask. Sure, it's easy to find that information. It comes up on a Google search.
Ian Hunt. Spouse: Laura Howe. Siblings: Tyler Hunt. Children: none.
All that private information made public.
I don't feel right looking at it. And I want to dive into every detail. To understand him. Or at least his intentions.
He's lived an entire life. Long enough to have a company, a fortune, an ex-wife.
"Evie." Addie knocks again. "Get up. Or I'm drinking your tea."
"I can make more tea for you, Ms. Miller," the British man says. Though I'm not sure if he means me or my sister.
"This might get confusing," she says.
He chuckles. "If your sister prefers to go by a different name—"
"Just Eve." I throw off the covers. Pull on shorts.
It's cooler today. I don't need to sleep in the buff, but I'm not wearing a lot. A tank top and panties. I don't need to prance half-naked in front of a near stranger. Unless he's Ian.
My cheeks flush.
My fingers dig into my thighs. I already want more. A repeat of last night. Or an hour in his office. At his apartment.
Where does he live?
Is it a modest place or something huge?
Classic or modern?
Bare or decorated?
Are his walls white?
Are his sheets black?
Or maybe teal. New sheets that make him think of me.
How strange. Creepy even. What kind of person buys new sheets a few days after they meet someone?
But even as my head says what the fuck, my body screams hell yes.
I want him obsessed with me. Some part of me does. Some part of me that's been dormant for a long time.
"Ms. Miller?" The British man asks. "Do you need some assistance?"
"No. I'm good. Uh, who are you?" I check my hair—as messy as it gets—and adjust my shirt. Then I move into the main room.
Sure enough, there is a British man standing next to the dining table. An Indian man in a sleek suit. Like the one Ian wears but less expensive.
I'm not sure how I can tell. Maybe I can't. Maybe I'm imagining things.
This guy is still handsome and put-together. But without the presence Ian has. He doesn't seem like someone who knows he's rich and powerful.
I guess he's not. Not if he's Ian's assistant.
"It's lovely to meet you, Ms. Miller." He offers his hand.
I shake. "Eve is fine."
"Of course, Eve. I'm Aalock. But I go by Lock. I work for one of Mr. Hunt's companies. Though I mostly work for a friend of his. Shepard Marlowe."
One of Ian's business partners. A finance guy. Also handsome. The spitting image of Prince Eric. With less smiling and more I'm going to tie you up vibes.
"I only mention Mr. Marlowe as he's part of your plans for Thursday evening," the British man says. Lock, I guess. "He's going to join you and Mr. Hunt at dinner. Along with his wife. Mr. Marlowe's wife. Not Mr. Hunt's. Mr. Hunt is no longer married."
"You're dating a rich, divorced guy?" Addie looks to Lock for information, but he keeps a perfect poker face.
"It's uh… complicated." My gaze flits to the giant gift on the table. A sleek black box with a deep teal ribbon. "Is that for me?"
"Yes, though your sister took a peek," he says.
"Hey! I thought that was our secret," she says.
"Ah, but you didn't ask me to pinkie promise." He winks at her.
She giggles. "It's… well, I won't ruin the surprise." She holds up an envelope with her full name written in gold script. "We're invited to an exclusive party. At the beach."
"We are?" I ask.
Lock nods.
"Apparently, Mr.—"
"Lock, please," he says. "I'm here to assist you in finding attire for the party. Mr. Hunt will be taking you to the Hamptons next weekend. This should be ample notice." He looks to me, checking if I understand. Not saying more in front of my sister.