Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
Huxley waved a hand through the air, not looking up from his computer. “Don’t worry about it. I’m on it.”
I sighed. As much as I wanted to sit and babysit his antics, I had no shortage of things to do for the day. “Fine. Just get it done.”
“As always, brother, you cast the line,” he looked up at me, “and I’ll reel it in.”
“Have you called Tiny yet?” I asked.
Huxley had already returned to his computer and was clicking away at this keyboard. “Yeah, I called him this morning. He’ll be in to check the new equipment at 10. You’d better be careful, though. Keep calling him ‘Tiny’ and he’s gonna knock your teeth out. Trust me, I’ve been there.”
I chuckled. “You just need to worry about Alexa’s wrath. If you’ll remember, she doesn’t take shit from anyone, least of all us. She’s probably gonna call out a hit on you.”
The thought only seemed to embolden Huxley. “I’m not worried.”
“Fine. Keep me posted.”
I left the office to the sound of Huxley chuckling to himself. Sorry, Alexa. I gave you the chance to do it properly. I walked back to my office, already dreaming of the cup of coffee I was going to brew when I got there. Alexa was Huxley’s task now, I had other things to worry about. I entered the door and immediately rolled my eyes at the sight.
I didn’t have time for this.
Perched on my desk, in a business blazer and skirt, but the kind one wears in a porno, was Malia La Dionee, my current, constant headache. She had one leg crossed over the other, causing her skirt to ride high up her thigh, and her long black hair was in a high pony-tail, but still hung all the way down to her waist.
“Good morning.”
“I don’t like when people sit on my desk.” I walked over to my single cup coffee brewer and pressed the necessary buttons to get it to start brewing and then I walked over to my chair. Malia quickly hopped over the desk and landed in my chair before I could sit down. I let out an irritated sigh. “Move. Why are you even here?”
She reached forward and put a hand on my thigh. “You’re such a grump in the morning. What’s wrong with a woman visiting her fiancé?”
I reached down and grabbed her hand on my thigh and pulled, yanking her out of the chair, dragging her up to me. I brought my face down to hers so that they were mere centimeters away. I wrapped my arm around her back and held onto her.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” She closed her eyes waiting for a kiss, and I smiled. “I still don’t know what that has to do with you being here.”
I pushed her aside and sat down in my chair and scooted it up to my desk. I could feel her leering at me from behind me, and knowing who she was, it probably wasn’t smart to jilt her and then turn my back to her, but I had to think even she was smarter than to murder a man in his own office.
Her arms draped over my shoulders and her hands found places to rest on my pecs. “We really are a good pair, you know. You’re the only person I’ve ever met as nasty as I am. We could rule the world if you’d just give in.” The button on my coffee machine beeped and I stood to grab it, but Malia quickly unwrapped herself from me and raced over. “Two creams right?” She grabbed two creamer cups from the caddy next to the brewer and stirred them into the coffee cup. She walked over and set it down on my desk and I completely ignored it. I’d brew another one once she was gone. “Oh, come on Harley. All I did was carry it over here, it’s not poisoned.”
“Knowing you, it could be.”
Malia sat down in one of the arm chairs on the other side of my desk and crossed her legs. “I have absolutely no intention of hurting you, Harley. I like you. I meant it when I said we could make a good pair. Besides, it’s in our best interest to be open to being a real couple. Thanks to this deal between Dante’s father and yours, we’re stuck together whether we like it or not.”
I hated to admit she was right. My family was wealthy, but it wasn’t always that way. Back in his youth, my father was just like any other poor man with a dream, lots of blueprints and no money to carry anything out. Desperate to make his dreams a reality, and having just knocked up his wife with twins, my dad did the only thing he could think of; he went to a mobster for seed money.