Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Are you asking me to leave with you?” I ask him, shocked but definitely not surprised. When he smirks, I bite down hard to block my mouth from telling him to fuck off. And before he says anything, I hear Sylvia behind me.
“Carter, good, you’re here,” she says, coming to us. “We are just waiting for you.”
His smirk disappears, and he takes off his glasses. It’s the wrong move because now I can see his green-blue eyes. “I’ll be out in ten minutes, fifteen minutes the most,” he says, and I just look at Sylvia.
“Let me know when you need me,” I say and then turn and walk back to my desk. I keep my shaking hands in check. I sit down and literally count to ten in my head. My heart beats faster and faster and then slowly calms. And just when it’s finally beating normal, the buzzer on my phone goes off.
“Erin, we are ready for you,” Sylvia says.
“I’ll be right in,” I say and look up at the ceiling. “I can do this,” I mumble to myself. “How bad could it be?”
In the back of my mind, I am almost afraid of the answer.
Chapter Three
Carter
I slam the door shut behind me and walk straight to the winding staircase that takes me upstairs to my bedroom. When I make it up to the landing, I come face-to-face with the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the blue ocean outside. The sun shines high in the sky, making it perfect. This view made me dish out twenty million dollars. That, and well, it’s right on the beach and gives me the privacy I deserve. I’ve been in show biz for the past twenty-five years, so basically most of my life, after being chosen at an open casting call my parents brought me to at the mall when I was eight.
We lived in a trailer, and some months, we were lucky to have water. The minute they cast me on The Mickey Mouse Club, I was my parents’ golden ticket. Almost like in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. They loved it so much that when I turned eighteen, I was happy to say I had not one penny left. My father had spent it on five homes that he paid for in cash while my mother jetted around town with a chauffeur.
So I started from the bottom when I legally became an adult, crossed them off my list forever, and then went on with my star-studded life. They tried to sue me for back royalty. Can you believe they claimed to have managed my career? Luckily, I had a shark lawyer who went toe to toe with them and even presented proof of all the money they embezzled from me. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen years old, if not younger, but I have one person to think about, and that is me. I don’t have time to have any strings attached to anyone. Unless it’s for the night.
I pull a black shirt over my head and walk to my bedroom on the right. The open curtain gives a view of the ocean again. I toss the shirt in the laundry, taking off my shoes at the door and then make my way to the bathroom to shower. I woke up thirty minutes ago and snuck out of my latest conquest’s house. I look in the mirror and see the nail marks down my chest. Why do these women feel it’s necessary to leave a mark as if I’m actually going to remember them in the morning? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve dated women but just casually and sporadically. Besides, in my line of work, why eat the same food every night when you can feast at a buffet?
I open the glass door to the huge walk-in shower. Even though it’s fitted with a bench, it’s never seen any action. I’ve never brought a woman home. Actually, that’s a lie. I brought one girl home seven years ago, and she stayed a fucking week. I literally had to send one of my friends to escort her from the house because she thought we were in love. Love. Like I’d be stupid enough to fall in love with anyone. Love was for fools, and I wasn’t a fool. I only had to depend on myself and no one else, and I loved myself. I loved my life.
Grabbing my brown leather jacket and sliding my sunglasses on, I run down the stairs and straight to the garage, then get into my black Ferrari. I make my way over to Hillcrest where I’m meeting my manager to sign the biggest contract of my life. The engine purrs every time I rev it. I pull up to the valet and toss him my keys. Grabbing my phone, I check to make sure I’m not late, and I see I have one minute to spare. I press the button for the elevator and then make my way up to Ryan’s office. I got a message from Jeff, my manager, that he’s already in the conference room.