Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Nothing much to tell, really. I’m pretty boring.”
“I find that hard to believe.” He smirked, lifting one eyebrow. “You may be at the beginning of your story, Ms. VanRyan, but I doubt you’re boring.”
It slipped out before I could stop myself. “Gracie. My friends call me Gracie.”
He inclined his head, a crooked smile gracing his lips. “Gracie,” he repeated.
He sat back, not pushing the subject any further. He spoke of the firm, his history, and what he expected of me. We discussed some of the cases he was working on.
“Why corporate?” he asked.
“I’ve always been fascinated with it,” I confessed. “My father is in marketing, so he always talked about trademarks and copyrights. I loved it when I went into the office with him, and I always snuck into the legal department and asked a thousand and one questions.”
“VanRyan—VanRyan,” he repeated. “Richard VanRyan?”
“Yes.”
“I know his work.”
I smiled, unsure what to say.
He went over the hours, where I would work, and answered all my questions. He beamed at me, the gesture turning his stern face into one of warmth, filled with personality.
“Your enthusiasm is to be commended. I look forward to having you under me.”
My eyes widened, and he hastened to correct himself. “Work under me. With me. I have a feeling we’ll make quite the team.”
I had to push aside the thought of being under him. How his powerful body would feel against mine. The pleasure those large hands could bring. I felt my cheeks flush, and I had to lower my gaze before he noticed. Silence fell, and then he cleared his throat and asked me a few more questions.
I shook my head to clear it, knowing I couldn’t have such thoughts about the man who would be my boss, and responded in the proper manner, my mind fixed firmly on business.
Finally, he stood, buttoning his jacket, indicating our time was done.
After confirming my hours, I left, already excited about working with him. About the knowledge I would learn.
I had no idea the greatest lesson I would learn would be heartache.
I curled my body tighter as I tried to tamp down the painful memories.
How the excitement led to agony. How I discovered his charm hid a selfish man intent on his own pleasure. Realizing to my horror, I had fallen in love with someone incapable of returning that love and who had lied to me with his sweet words and gestures. The future I envisioned was nothing but a lie.
The face he showed the world was nothing but a lie.
I had no choice but to work with him every day, hiding my suffering. Wondering how love could become hate. I refused to let him see my inner turmoil. I was determined to finish this articling position, walk away, and never see Jaxson Richards again. I hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, but the partners—and Jaxson—had given me no choice.
I groaned as I shifted, the pain in my head changing from a dull ache to a constant pounding. As I moved, I stiffened as I realized the weight on my hip wasn’t that of the blanket, but of a hand.
My stomach rolled when reality hit me. Someone was in bed with me. I had slept with a stranger. I got drunk in Vegas and slept with a stranger. How clichéd.
Ignoring the ache in my head, I shot out of bed, yanking the blanket with me. I fumbled around, finding the light and switching it on. I squinted as the pain shot through my temples, and I gasped when I recognized the man lying in the bed beside me. Not looking upset at all, Jaxson pulled himself up into a sitting position and had the nerve to smile at me.
“Not a stranger,” he said, letting me know I had spoken my thought out loud. “How are you feeling, darling?”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Until a few moments ago, I was sleeping. You must need some Tylenol. Let me get it for you.”
“Don’t bother. I meant, how the hell did you get into my bed?”
He smirked, lifting one leg up to his chest and reclining back with his hands beneath his head. He looked too handsome and far too comfortable for this situation.
“Since this is my room, you’re the one in my bed.”
I looked around, seeing he was right.
“What the hell happened?”
“I would think that was obvious.” He indicated the torn condom wrappers. “We had sex.”
I gaped at him. “Why did I have sex with you? I don’t like you!”
He leaned forward, his blue eyes bright in the dim light. His smile was wicked, and I wanted to wipe it off his face with my fist. “You really liked me last night. At least three times.”
We’d had sex three times?
“At least,” he confirmed. “I’m not counting the orgasm in the car, and I think I missed one other fuck. Against the wall, I think.”