Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
This is already the best date of my life.
He booked five restaurants so I could choose.
He’s a thoughtful god.
The restaurant is small and quaint, candles adorn the tables and Italian music is being piped through the speakers.
We both sit quietly as the waiter fills our glasses.
“Thank you,” we both say in unison as he finishes, he walks away leaving us alone.
“So,” he says as his eyes find mine across the table.
“So….” I beam.
“I have many questions for the beautiful Miss Zoe.”
I smile into my wine glass, “Same.”
“Such as?” he asks.
“What’s your surname?”
He bursts out laughing, “Good opener.”
I laugh too.
“My surname is Andrews.”
“Dylan Andrews.” I smile. “I like that name.”
“I like you,” he fires back without hesitation.
Nerves dance in my stomach, he likes me.
“Do you want to know my surname?” I ask.
“I know your surname.”
“What else do you know about me?”
“I know how to make you moan.” He gives me the best come-fuck-me look of all time.
He’s so naughty.
“Your name is Zoe Armitage, you’re 26. Single, live alone. Grew up in the area and …” He frowns. “Would never have picked you for a lawyer though.”
“You’ve done your research, impressive.” I smile, “You must be a cop or something.”
He gives me a sexy wink.
I twist my wine glass as my mind temporarily wanders.
I never picked you as a lawyer.
Sensing my sudden mood decline, he asks, “What is it?”
“Oh nothing.” I shrug embarrassed. “Just…… It’s funny you say that about the lawyer thing, I’m in the middle of a mid-life crisis as we speak.”
Why did I tell him that? I haven’t told a soul.
“How so?”
“I don’t know, I studied for years to do this, I work for the top law firm in town, and now,” I shrug, “I hate it, I hate everything about it. I’m miserable and drag myself to work every single day. I’ve never cried so much in my life.”
He listens intently.
“But I think that’s normal, right? When anyone starts a dream job that there’s a settling in period. It’s never what you think it’s going to be,” I add.
“How long have you been doing it?” he asks.
“Two years.”
He nods and thinks for a moment, “What made you pick law?”
“I don’t know, I got the marks at school and the writing was on the wall for a long time.”
“Who’s writings?”
“My parents, my teachers, my boyfriend at the time. Everyone.”
“Everyone but you?” His eyes search mine.
I sip my wine, feeling uncomfortable. “It’s a good job.”
“It is,” he agrees. “But what did you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. If you could have been anything in the world, what would you have been?”
I shrug.
“Don’t shrug, be honest with yourself. What did you want to do?”
“I wanted to be a nurse.”
He frowns as he listens intently, “So, what stopped you?”
“Everyone told me it was a shit job with terrible conditions.”
He sits back, annoyed by my answer. “Looking after sick people is the highest form of social service. Probably the most rewarding job of all. Whoever doesn’t see that is a fucking idiot.”
“The pay is terrible.”
“Money means jack shit, Zoe,” he snaps. “Do you think I’m a cop for money?”
I stare at him, confused. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. “Why did you pick that job?” I ask.
“Because if I could help just one person feel safe then it would be worth it.”
Oh…..
“Did you feel safe when you were a child?” I ask.
He concentrates on folding a napkin on the table as he avoids my gaze.
Did he grow up in an abusive home?
“Did you…..”
“Can we change the subject?” he cuts me off.
My heart constricts as I watch him. I take his hand over the table, “Well, you make me feel safe.”
He leans onto his hand and gives me that I’m-going-to-fuck-you-hard look, again, “I’m the last person you should feel safe with.”
I smile, “Probably.”
He doesn’t feel safe.
I lift his hand and kiss his fingertips; his eyes rise to meet mine. “We can keep each other safe.” He turns his hand and cups my face.
What the hell is going on here?
This is something, something big. I’m not imagining it.
“So, are you going to work the rest of your life in a job that you hate?” He changes the subject.
My shoulders slump, the thought is depressing, “I’ll get over it.”
“Maybe you should start being honest with yourself.”
Why are we talking about this? “I’m ready to order,” I announce.
“Don’t change the subject, Zoe. If you’re unhappy, do something about it.”
“Look, it’s not that easy,” I snap, annoyed. “You know nothing about the situation.”
He holds his two hands up in a surrender symbol.
Deep down I know he’s right. It’s my turn to change the subject now. “Tell me about your past girlfriends.”
He chuckles, “Nice deflection.”
“You like that?” I smile.
“Not really.” He smiles back, “What do you want to know?”
“Girlfriends? Player? Cockshot sender? Where do you sit in the dating pool?”