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)
He has far too much interest in the appendage of a man he doesn’t know, so instead of letting him off the hook, I band my arm around Octavia’s back and lead her into the lion’s den with only a snarl to defend off the wild beasts.
I’d rather sit out from the festivities, but since I need a handful of photographs of handsome men in tailored suits to ruffle Caleb’s feathers, I’m going to throw Octavia to the wolves with me. It is only fair since she has been more of a cockblocker to Caleb and me the past six months than Caleb’s unvoiced fears.
CHAPTER 34
CALEB
My apartment door shoots open so fast I mentally jot down a note to ask Lou for replacement hinges. I curse under my breath when Jess’s wide eyes bounce between me and the gym bag at my left before they eventually land on the shimmery black pants I had to squeeze into.
“Velcro back in fashion, is it?” Her tone is rife with annoyance, but I doubt any of her frustration stems from believing I’m cutting her out of the deal we made three years ago. She’s pissed I didn’t announce a comeback to stripping to her first because to her, it was never about the money. It was about the moral support.
“Who told you?” I know it wasn’t Octavia because she doesn’t know how I paid six months’ rent in advance years ago. At times, I wonder if she thinks money falls from the sky.
I drop my eyes to the sultry swing of Jess’s hips when she moseys deeper into my apartment. “What makes you think someone told me you were cutting me out of rightful royalties? Maybe my manager senses were tingling.”
When my lips tug at one side, she fights her hardest to stay mad.
Her effort lasts all of two seconds. “Are the shimmery pants for now or later tonight? Octavia said you were going to the gym, and we all know the only workouts you do is when you’re grinding your crotch into someone’s ass.” She suddenly looks ill. “You’re not…” Her eyes widen before shooting around my apartment. “Is someone here with you?”
I laugh, and it almost gets me killed. My chuckles can’t be helped. She looks set to rip someone’s head off, and as much as I shouldn’t get pleasure knowing her target is locked on someone else, I do.
I love her jealousy almost as much as I loathe mine.
You have no idea how hard it was for me last month not to rip out the number a rando gave her at the club from her hand to give it back to him in a not-so-nice fashion. The only reason I held back is because I could tell Jess wasn’t interested. He wasn’t her type.
Arrogant, obnoxious pricks aren’t up her alley.
She only favors those traits when they come from me.
“There’s no one here but me.” The smoothness my confession gave her brows is undone when I add, “And the pants are for today...” I check my watch. “In like an hour.”
“Caleb,” Jess chides me like I’m a child. “You know how bat-shit crazy the middle-of-the-day bachelorette crowds are. They’re desperate, horny, and don’t tip anywhere near enough for the first two points to be handled.”
“Kind of like Bailey’s Tuesday night get-together?”
She shoots daggers at me, but her mouth remains tightlipped since she can’t bitch about a friend. Bailey went the cheap route by booking her bachelorette party for this Tuesday and her wedding for the following Friday.
Confident I’ve got the goods to get this deal over the line, I say, “She agreed to a thousand upfront. Another grand if her guests are happy.”
“Two K?” Jess almost chokes on her spit when I dip my chin, “For what? I’ve seen Rent-An-Alpha ads for cheaper than that.”
I shrug. “Just a gig.”
“Bullshit,” she fires back. “If it were a standard gig, you would have told me.”
She’s right. I would have.
“So out with it. What is the real reason you stayed tight-lipped?”
After stripping out of my stripper pants the ‘performance’ way, I replace them with a pair of lowriding jeans, then snatch a shirt out of the unfolded laundry Octavia and I have been ignoring for a week.
While hoping the thick cotton of my shirt will muffle my reply, I say, “Some of the details on the contract seemed familiar.”
Jess hones in on my confession like a bee seeking out pollen. “How familiar?”
I try not to act affected by my abs’ inability to blindside her astuteness. I miserably fail. I sound more disappointed than worried while confessing, “Her husband-to-be is an old acquaintance.”
My ego gets a moment of reprieve when it takes me stuffing the hem of my shirt into the front of my jeans to secure her attention, and even then, she still licks her lips while lifting her eyes from my crotch. “An old friend of yours?” Her brows stitch when I shake my head. “Then who?”