Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Her eyes light up, no doubt from mentally calculating the commission she’ll gain if she keeps Jack on her side of the fence before she nods. “There’s even one in the bathroom. When you’re sitting in the tub, you can see snow-capped mountains.”
As she guides Jack into the master suite, I step into one of the many living areas. As much as I’m not a fancy-schmancy girl, I can admit it wouldn’t take much to adapt to such regalness, although an elaborate property such as this will never be in my price range.
Well, not anymore.
The end table would cost more than my monthly rent, and don’t get me started on the suede couches.
The queasiness making me want to fold in two eases a little when Jack stops to stand in front of me a short time later. He brushes the back of his fingers down my cheek, highlighting its paleness before asking, “What do you think?”
His gleaming eyes expose he’s already made his decision, so instead of telling him it would take me ten lifetimes to pay this off, I say with a shrug, “It’s nice, I guess.”
“You guess?” After spinning me to face a view so spectacular it should be priceless, he cozies up to my back, then wraps his arms around my waist. His closeness sends my senses into overdrive, but it has nothing on the frantic beat of my heart when he adds, “For sixteen million, I had hoped for something a little more enthusiastic than ‘I guess.’”
My eyes bulge over the monetary amount stated, but before I can announce that he could buy my entire building for that amount, he twists his torso to face the lady hovering back enough not to impede on a personal moment but close enough to have her night made. “I’ll take it. Immediate purchase. Cash sale. I’ll even toss in a couple of million for the furniture. I don’t have time to decorate.”
“Yes, Mr. Carson. Of course. What a wonderful investment you’ve made this evening.”
As the agent digs paperwork out of her soft leather suitcase, eager to get the sale wrapped up—and perhaps get back to bed—Jack presses his lips to the shell of my ear and murmurs, “Pick a room, any room, and it will be yours for as long as you want it.”
“Are you insane? I can’t live here.” If he isn’t deranged, he is clearly deaf because he kisses my temple before he pulls away to sign paperwork like I never said anything.
Over the next forty-five minutes, Jack, Elaine—who arrived looking as flustered as a I feel—and the real-estate agent talk a bunch of mumbo jumbo while I stand awkwardly at the side, too scared to sit on anything in case the tanning lotion I rubbed into my legs this afternoon ruins the pristine furniture.
Once forms have been notarized and Elaine shows the agent out, Jack rejoins me at the window overlooking the bay. “Did you find a room you like?” After the events that forced us together tonight, the deceit in his tone isn’t shocking, merely unwanted.
When he peers at me with an arched brow, waiting for me to answer, I shake my head. He barely took his eyes off me for a second during talks, so he knows I haven’t strayed from my spot. I’m just entertaining his wish for this not to be as awkward as it feels.
“Then how about we explore them together?”
His fingers entwining with mine keep my words lodged in my throat for approximately thirty seconds. “I can’t stay here, Jack. We’ve only just met, and I like my apartment building. The neighbors are friendly and—”
“This isn’t a place for you to live,” he replies, interrupting me and my long-winded denial. “It is a place for you to feel comfortable in and seek shelter if you ever need it.” He spins and walks backward, his hand never leaving mine. “If you need time to think, you can come here, and I won’t interrupt you…” God save me. He brought out the shy smirk like I can’t feel his raging heart through our cojoined hands. “No matter how urgent the need.”
I sock him in the stomach, hopeful an edge of playfulness won’t have my next question stinging him too harshly. “Why would I need a place to think?”
When his smile sags a little, it takes everything I have not to set it back into place with my tongue. The only reason I don’t is because the Jack standing before me now is neither a media mogul nor a hotshot boss. He is Jack from Jersey. “Because I am a difficult man to deal with, Octavia.” He rolls his eyes like his next statement isn’t factual. “I’ve also been told I can be somewhat demanding on people’s time.” He drags his thumb over a vein protruding in my hand before admitting, “I am trying to approach this differently.” He gestures his free hand between us during the ‘this’ part of his sentence. “I want you to have space to grow in our relationship, but I also need you to know that it is a safe space.”