Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Atlas
I sit in the posh bathroom stall complete with a red settee, thinking about my fight with Eric. I can’t figure him out. He acts like he wants me one minute and he hates me the next.
It’s moments like these that I wish my mom were here. Maybe I could tell her about him, ask for advice. Maybe she’d talk to my dad and tell him to let Eric and me be together.
I sigh, knowing that fantasy isn’t true. If she were alive, my mom would tell me to try to see things from my father’s perspective. She’d tell me how much he loves me and that I should make him happy.
My backpack buzzes, and I reach for my cellphone. The message is from Eric. You could call it a rousing success.
Despite the way he acted outside, I smile at his sense of humor, at the way teasing him as Miss Karma is so much fun. Why can’t it be this easy when we’re together in person?
My phone dings with a new message from him. Charcoal suit? Are you going to tell me what you’re wearing tonight?
I was planning to put the seduction plan on hold after our argument and the way he called me a kid.
But then I realize I may not get another chance like this. I need him to see me in a new light. I need him to realize that I’m a woman. A woman who aches to be his.
So, I grab my sleeveless cocktail dress from my backpack. The top is silver sequins, and the short flouncy skirt is black. It hits mid-thigh, highlighting my long legs.
I send a text to Eric. Sequins and black lace. If you can guess the color of my panties, I’ll let you take them off.
Then I gather my blonde curls into a loose ponytail, letting a few strands frame my face. Finally, I change my eyeshadow and lipstick color even though I doubt he was paying that much attention to how I looked earlier. He was too busy calling me a kid.
Slipping into the black mask that matches, I fight a wave of panic. What if Eric recognizes me? What if I make a gesture that’s too familiar?
“Stop it,” I say only to realize I’m talking to myself.
Eric doesn’t spend enough time around me to recognize my gestures. He barely acknowledges my presence when we’re in the same room together. As long as I don’t slip up, everything will be fine.
I’ve just finished stowing the rest of my things in the hotel gym’s locker room when my phone buzzes with another message from him. Guess mine.
I tap out a quick response. I asked you first.
There’s a long pause before his next message and I like the idea that Eric is thinking about me and my underwear. I hope it’s making him hard, causing his balls to ache with tension.
It’s a trick question. You’re not wearing any.
My cheeks flush and I glance around the empty locker room as if someone might be reading over my shoulder.
His next message makes my heart skip a beat. You’re here tonight, aren’t you?
With shaking fingers, I type my response. How’d you know it was a trick?
Eric ignores my question. Let’s meet. Tell me where you are.
You’ll have to find me. With that, I put the phone in my clutch purse and leave the hotel locker room. I’ll give Eric time to think on that for a few minutes before I approach him as Karma.
Eric
Apparently, sequins are popular tonight. I’ve counted no less than six women wearing them. I’ve managed to rule out four of them and I’m currently chatting up the fifth at the bar.
Three minutes into the conversation and I start talking in detail about what I do at Alpha Defense Industries. Her interest instantly wanes, and she looks over my shoulder for someone else to talk to.
That leaves a redhead at the end of the bar. She sends a coy smile my way and I extract myself from the current conversation before moving next to her.
A few minutes of flirting and I make a double entendre about penetration testing. She’s either a very good actress or she doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.
The conversation quickly fizzles out after that and my frustration mounts. I want to find Miss Karma, discover her true identity, and tell my friend I’m quitting.
Someone claps me on the shoulder, and I turn to see Michael.
He takes a seat on the barstool next to me. “You’re really working hard to take someone home tonight.”
I sip my scotch. “Karma is here.”
Michael takes a moment to casually glance around the room. If I can’t spot her, I doubt he can.
“She’s toying with you,” he finally says. “Why?”
It’s the one thing I haven’t been able to figure out. It seems personal but I have almost no personal connections. I keep in touch with a couple of buddies I served with but other than that, there’s only my half-sister.