Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
No one is paying us the least bit of attention, so I pull Gen to the side, around the corner, and out of earshot. Gripping her shoulders, I look her in the eye, telepathically trying to send her a message without saying the words.
“Why are you staring at me like that, you weirdo. Did he hypnotize you?”
I roll my eyes.
“For real though. If I say ‘whiskey tango foxtrot’ are you going to start jumping up and down on one foot.”
“Gen. He knows.”
“He knows knows?” Her brows pinch together, momentarily confused. I nod, slowly, lips thinned, waiting for her to comprehend. And when she does, her eyes widen.
“Stop it right now.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Are you being serious?”
Honestly, why do I bother with her?
But Genevieve carries on caterwauling without me. “Oh my God, Peyton. He knows. Holy crap-ola.”
“I know.” I’m freaking out, too. Somehow, I managed to hold it together when Rome was right in front of me—in my face—when I could smell his delicious cologne, and see every fleck in his gorgeous grey eyes. God, I wanted him to lean in and kiss me so bad. Yet, held it strong . . . even when I told him it was me. Now? Now, I’m freaking the hell out. He. Knows. It. Was. Me.
My friend grabs my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “This is nuts. He knows and he didn’t make a scene. Wow. This is . . . wow.”
“I mean . . . he did have smoke coming out of his ears, just a little.”
“How the hell did he find out?”
“I have no idea. All I know is that he busted in on the party to call me out on it. Now he expects me to run up to his office in fifteen minutes, probably for another tongue lashing.”
Gen smirks. “A tongue lashing.” Wiggles her brows. “One can dream.”
I smack her. “Shut up.”
“Maybe he’s going to give you the kind of going-away present that will rock your world.”
My nose scrunches. “What are you talking about?”
Gen sighs and flicks my forehead—actually flicks it. And it’s so freaking rude I’m about to protest, but she cuts me off.
“Dude, he’s totally going to take you up on your offer to bang him.”
There is no way. Not Rome. “Do you think he wants to have sex?”
Impossible. He’s so pissed at me.
“Uh, yee-ah,” Gen whisper-shouts. “Why else would he call you up to his office on your last day? You’re done. There is nothing left for him to say. You did your exit interview with HR, and your access has been revoked.”
That’s true.
I bite my thumbnail.
“Baby, you could have cut the sexual tension between you two with that cake knife; I could taste the sex from here.”
“Ew, don’t say shit like that. What is wrong with you?”
“I’m serious.” She taps my cheek and I swat her hand away. “Fifty bucks says you’re about to get bent over a desk by Rome Blackburn. Your dreams are about to come true.”
“Stop that.” But what if she’s right? My face is flaming hot, and I press my palms against my cheeks to cool them off. “You’re making me nervous and sweaty. He’s not about to bend me over a desk.” Although I wouldn’t hate it. “I’m sure there’s something else he wants to talk about.”
Gen crosses her arms and taps her toe on the carpet. “Yeah, like what? You don’t work here anymore.”
I pause, needing to give the question some thought. All my notes and day-to-day schedules have been turned in to George in marketing. I sent my notes to the temporary solution from another department, having typed out my daily task lists and giving her a copy. Brief rundown and overview.
The ins and outs of managing social media. Passed over the “Social Media for Dummies” that I found on Amazon for my replacement as a joke.
Gen is right; there is nothing left for me to do here but find the front door.
“My office in fifteen minutes, Miss Lévêque.” His words ring in my ears.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “I’m totally going to get bent over.”
“You sound dreamy—like you can taste it now, too.” She shakes her fists in the air, excitement pouring out of her. “As God as my witness you, my friend, are about to get banged.” Her gaze trails down my torso critically. “I hope you shaved your legs.”
“I always do.” I bite my bottom lip and say, “Wait. What if having sex with Rome is a bad idea?”
Genevieve makes a buzzer sound with her throat. “Merp! Wrong question. No second-guessing yourself.”
“I know, but—”
“But what?” Her perfectly shaped brows pinch together, ala Frieda. “How on earth is this a bad idea? This is all you wanted, your birthday wish. All you need to do is get up there and flash him that smile. Oh, and unbutton your dress.”