Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
And I meant it. I’d seen penthouse views before—dozens of them—but the way Thatcher described his, the cautious excitement on his face as he studied my reaction, made my chest ache with the need to know more about this vulnerable, fascinating facet of an already fascinating man.
“Yeah?” he whispered, sounding unusually raw.
I could practically feel my face softening as a wave of gushy emotion nearly swamped me. “Yeah,” I whispered back.
Even if today was the end of him and me being like this, the fact that he’d trusted me with this part of himself—a part I could tell he didn’t share with many people—filled me with warmth, dispelling the chill that had come over me the moment Layla landed in Omaha and our little bus-bubble popped.
I’d been trying to get some distance from Thatcher to protect myself, but for that moment at least, I didn’t want distance. I wanted to share with him like he’d shared with me. To trust him.
I gripped his hand. “Thatcher, I know this might sound crazy, but I want to tell you… I think Layla stole the branding ideas for the Elustre launch,” I whisper-blurted.
Thatcher blinked. “You… what?” Which, honestly, was a fair response to my abrupt change of topic and mood.
I pushed myself up so I was braced on one elbow while he was flat on his back—which was incredibly distracting, because god, he was gorgeous all splayed out like that—and spoke as quietly as my excitement would allow. “I wasn’t going to say anything until I had a chance to figure it all out on my own. I didn’t want to point fingers at Layla because it was awful when she did it to me, and I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me anyway unless I had proof. But then you told me about the view from your apartment, and I…” Remembered that you trust me. Remembered that even though you can’t love me back, I can still trust you. “I wanted to tell you.”
“Okay,” he agreed cautiously.
“When Layla showed us that presentation earlier,” I whispered, “I had concerns right away. It was professional. Too professional. And I’m not saying putting together a presentation is rocket science, it’s not, but it does take some experience and knowledge of the topic I’m not sure she has.”
“Reagan—”
“So I remembered Nataly telling me that Terrance Fisher, the guy who worked for PennCo until a few weeks ago, had storyboarded an entire social media campaign for the launch and presented it to Layla, but she gave him her whole song and dance about not doing social media. So when I was in your room earlier, I found Terrance’s Instagram, and I DM’d him. He was really nice and really talkative. He described his concept to me, and it sounds exactly like what Layla showed us,” I said. “More than that, he told me some other stuff that happened while she was his manager, and—”
“Reagan.” He rolled into me, pushing me back into the bed. “Stop. I don’t want to talk about Layla. Not like this. Not now.”
I frowned. “You don’t understand. Thatcher, she flat-out took credit for his ideas. And if the other stuff he said is true—”
“Quiet,” he said low and firm and sexy. His tone, combined with the press of his half-hard cock against my thigh, made it tough to remember why I’d wanted to talk in the first place…
But not impossible.
“You’re not listening to me,” I breathed. “Thatcher—”
“I’m listening.” His words were a hot wash against my neck as his lips nudged the sensitive skin there. “You think Layla’s taking credit for Terrance’s work. Maybe she is—maybe,” he repeated when my body tensed at the doubt in his voice. “But the truth is, any presentation Terrance did while he worked at PennCo is PennCo’s property, and for all you know, baby, Layla may have influenced his design or changed it up after the fact.”
I shook my head, trying to clear the lust haze that formed when he called me baby. “N-no. She didn’t—”
Thatcher dragged his hand up my side under my sleep shirt, and I shivered. “I can’t blame you for thinking the worst of her right now—she was awful to you earlier, and I’ll be addressing that with her once we’re back in New York, I promise—but she’s still your supervisor. This, us, doesn’t change that.” He nipped lightly at my jaw. “So tonight, let me take your mind off it.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I’m not complaining about the way she talks to me. I’m trying to tell you, it’s way bigger—”
He cut me off with a kiss to my lower lip. His hard length moved against my leg in tiny, frustrated circles. “Shhh. I told you, I’ll take care of it. I’d have said something to her already if I didn’t know you’d be too busy over the next few days to be fetching her coffee—”