Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“If I’m screwed, then so is this whole place.”
“That’s not true. You’ll be able to rule your kingdom from anywhere with an internet connection. Ireland, or wherever it is.”
Leon is up and out of his chair, breathing like he just completed a triathlon with some extra intense running and swimming and crap. He jerks open the top buttons of his shirt, revealing his scar, and his eyes are absolutely wild. My heart skitters in my chest.
“How do you know that I’m from Ireland?”
I can barely breathe past the clenching in my chest. My heart continues to kick at my ribs, and I can feel my face draining of color. “It’s just the way you talk sometimes. You have almost no accent, but it comes out here and there. Why? What’s wrong with Ireland?” It takes every ounce of my courage to stand my ground and pretend that I don’t notice his temper or how it’s weird as shit. “I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s a nice place. I’m not sure I’d take this over Ireland.”
Almost subconsciously, Leon raises his hands and rubs his temples. He’s doing it because there’s something wrong. I notice the beads of sweat on his hairline. A headache coming on? Holy cat bums, please don’t let it be something serious. Like, what if he’s actually sick or has a medical condition, and I’m triggering something right now by being a huge brat?
He walks away from me and paces around his desk. Then, he sits down in his chair. Hard.
“You’re going to give yourself a coronary,” I take a chance and say. “You need to relax.” I’m trying to soften things out by using humor, but apparently, it’s not funny. “Do you need something? Some ibuprofen or something?”
“No,” he snaps without looking at me. “No, I do not. What I need is for you to be at the courthouse on Saturday morning.”
“Uh, no. Not the courthouse. That’s too intimidating. Your house. We need a witness.” What you should really be saying is no, thank you, and I won’t be a part of fraudulent activity. “And you’re really going to enjoy the cabin. It’s great and really nice. Been in my family for ages. Sunday to Sunday, how fun! What a great honeymoon, peachy pie sweetheart. You’re so thoughtful.”
He points at the door with a low growl. “Get out.”
“Let me know what time our nuptials are taking place and if I need to bring anything other than myself, bunny boo, dumpling fiancé dear. I’m so looking forward to it.”
“Get. Out.”
“That’s the nicest proposal I’ve ever heard. Thank you for being so considerate and romantic,” I toss out dryly while scuttling for the door.
I don’t give him time to growl the place down. I have enough to think about already. I leave, basically running out of his office, and shut the door shut tightly behind me.
I retreat past the wall of offices, out to the safety of my cubicle in the big open area. The whole building is bland and too modern, too white. The offices are super nice, but the cubicles leave something to be desired. I don’t see any of it when I sit down hard in my chair.
What the heck did I just agree to in there? Well, I agreed to help my parents out so that they don’t lose their house because my dad is on disability, to help pay for my little sister’s education and lower my student debt so I can breathe again, and also to a week-long holiday that I’ve been longing for almost more than anything this past year.
But none of that has anything to do with why I said yes.
I am so pooched in the poocher. That’s a new one. And nasty. Congrats.
I switch on my computer just to distract myself and nearly groan when I see that the internal messaging chat thread is still going on. I read a few of the last times, stopping on the very bottom one. It was sent just a few seconds ago.
Jane: Maybe instead of calling him Lord Poo, we should actually be calling him Mr. Vampire Devil Puppy Eater. Mr. Vadeputer for short.
I exit the chat and put my head in my hands. Great. What does that make me, then? Mrs. Vadeputer?
3
LEON
“This is a poor time to stand someone up.” My growl practically rattles off the walls of my room, and that’s saying something because the acoustics in this house are generally quite good, meaning sound doesn’t bounce around like the walls are hollow.
“I’m sure she’s not going to stand you up.” My sister, Kitty, looks way more certain about that than I probably do. Right now, I probably look like a thunderous arsehole about to bite someone’s head off. I’ve seen cartoon toilets do that. In that scenario, I quite enjoyed it. In this one, not so much.