Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I vomit a little in my mouth. “If you want to know what I taste like, you should have gone for the Horse Jizz.” When his eyes shoot to the sweaty animals galloping by, I dart mine to the drinks menu on the bar. It exposes that the Horse Jizz is beer and milk mixed together. “Perfect ingredients on their own, but together, they’re disgusting.”
After placing my untouched drink onto a waiter’s tray, I make a beeline for Octavia.
“Tivy.” I hug her tight, hopeful my over-the-top affection will remove Mr. Kell’s eyes from my backside. “I thought you were going to be a no-show again, then I would have been left to fend off Mr. Kell’s sick comments alone.” My stomach involuntarily reels. “Thank God you arrived when you did because they’re more perverted since he’s drunk.”
My ploy seems to work because within seconds of freeing Octavia from my grasp, my ass stops being subjected to the fiery daggers being shot across the room. With the scent of burning skin no longer present, another scent pops up. It isn’t a smell I’ve witnessed Octavia wear the past three and a half years. It is naughty, raunchy, and provocative.
No way! She can’t smell like sex! She’s been as deprived as me for the past three years.
Hasn’t she?
“Is that—”
“Poop? Yep. That’s what you’re smelling,” Octavia interrupts, her cheeks flaming more.
I arch a brow, wordlessly calling her out as the liar she is. “I was going to say…” I curse Caleb’s Adonis ass to hell for breaking my hottie radar when it suddenly alerts me to the fact that Octavia isn’t alone. “Oh… hello.”
As my insides high-five Octavia, my mouth gapes open. When she acts unaffected by my silent commendation that’s she finally realized she can do far better than a misogynistic man like Ronnie, I shift my focus back to her male friend. He has glossy black hair, some sort of ethnicity like me, and stands possessively at Octavia’s side like they’ve known each other far longer than a couple of minutes.
That can’t be the case. I only saw Octavia this morning. She would have mentioned meeting a man as dashing as him. We’re close. Not close enough for me to reveal that my crush on her cousin commenced with an almost one-night stand in an accessible bathroom many years ago, but close, nonetheless.
When the man’s sable eyes lock with mine, I mutter, “And you are?”
I can’t hold back my shocked expression when Octavia stammers out, “Ah… Jess, this is…”
She didn’t get his name! This is even better than me only knowing Caleb’s first name until Tash blurted it out in annoyance.
I’m a fan of her date when he silently riles her for a couple of seconds before introducing himself, “Jack. Nice to meet you, Jess.”
When he holds out his hand in offering, I accept, although a little hesitantly. His watch is pricy. I’m not talking a jewelry store purchase with a massive uptick. I’m talking a custom piece where the dealer comes to you.
“Have I seen you around?” Conscious we’re surrounded by a sea of sharks, I tighten my grip on Jack’s hand before yanking him in close. “You’re not from HR, are you? Those guys give me the heebie-jeebies.”
After staring him dead set in the eyes long enough for sweat to bead on his dark brow, I drop my eyes to his package, wordlessly warning him just how badly I’ll maim him if he treats Octavia as badly as the creep she works for day in and day out.
“No. I’m not from HR.” There is a hint of deceit in Jack’s tone, but I don’t know him well enough to call him out on it.
So instead, I wipe the invisible sweat from my brow, then update Octavia on the devastating news I unearthed within ten minutes of arriving. “Phew, because from what I heard, they won’t be around that long either.” My bottom lips quivers when I ponder how I’ll continue to convince Fresh Meals not to advise Caleb of the price hike they suffered six months ago. Caleb is none the wiser that I’ve been paying the difference, but now they might need to be canceled altogether. “None of us will be. We’ve been bought out. Some hotshot billionaire with a corn kernel for a dick offered Mr. Potts a few million too many.”
I’ve not met the new owner, but he’d have to be a lunatic with more money than sense because who in their right mind would buy a sinking ship? The other reason Seattle Socialites is still afloat is because the journalists haven’t secured new jobs yet. The market has always been hard, but it got even harder after COVID-19.
“Potts Holdings has been sold?” Octavia spits out at the same time Jacks asks, “Are you basing your corn kernel assumption on facts or hearsay?”