Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 183663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 918(@200wpm)___ 735(@250wpm)___ 612(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 918(@200wpm)___ 735(@250wpm)___ 612(@300wpm)
“Can I assume this is one of those times we’re not going to share?”
“That happened one time,” I growl menacingly. One time before, I knew who he was. Before I knew who I was, blindly following in my father’s footsteps. How the old fucker must’ve laughed. The apple doesn’t fall from the tree, does it, boys? “I swear, Griffin, if you so much as breathe in her direction, I will—”
“You’ll what? Have me escorted from the premises, never to darken your door again? Wouldn’t that make a good story for the dreaded tabloids? I can see the headline: the Duke, his Brother, and the American Nanny. That’s the kind of deviant love triangle the masses love. It might even be like old times.”
There is no love triangle. This is purely linear, the line running directly from me to Holland with no stop in between.
“I’m sure being embroiled in a scandal would do your career a world of good,” I drawl in response. “Not to mention, bring you to the attention of your newest client. I can’t imagine the Russian’s will take kindly to journalists digging about.”
A wide smile spreads across Griffin’s face. “Someone’s been talking to Van. But I note you didn’t say she’d be worth it. Worth the risk, I mean.”
Maybe she is, but that’s not something I would ever discuss with him.
“What I can’t make out is if you’ve fucked her yet,” he says ponderously.
“I didn’t realise my sex life was of interest to you.” My easy answer is at complete odds with how I feel.
“Yours isn’t. Hers, however . . .” He turns carelessly, sauntering on a couple of steps before turning back to face me. “I’m going to say you haven’t.”
“I live to entertain you.” I sketch a mocking bow.
“The way I look at it,” he replies, swinging to face the other way. “It’s either that,” he calls over his shoulder, “or the girl has a magical pussy.”
As the twelfth Duke of Dalforth’s bastard son ambles away, I hear the words that go unsaid. Either way, he’s determined to find out for himself.
28
Holly
I am so stupid.
But maybe not as stupid as I originally thought after Isla cleared up a few things for me this morning when I’d sneaked into the family kitchen to grab myself something to eat while I thought everyone would be downstairs for breakfast.
She’d seemed to materialise out of nowhere.
So maybe fate did bring me here. Even if Alexander did interfere in an attempt to keep me away from his brother. It seems as though this has been, as Isla had suggested, one big cosmic coincidence. Which is better than discovering the man you’d slept (twice) with—a duke no less—has bundled you off to Scotland because you were such a good lay, he’d like the opportunity to repeat the experience again.
I know, say it out loud, and it sounds ridiculous. If he’d wanted to have sex with me, he could’ve said as much in London when I’d bumped into him while I was serving because I’m sure I would’ve hopped on that train.
Like I did last night.
I can’t help that the man makes me thirsty just looking at him!
But coincidence or not, fate or not, it doesn’t make the wanting not true. For either of us, it would seem.
God . . . I press my forehead to the cold window. Is that Griffin and Alexander I can see down there? I close one eye and peer down at the courtyard, but I can’t tell. The sun is too bright, and they’re standing almost directly underneath me. Well, if it is, I hope Alexander is giving him a hard time about last night. The ass.
I jump away from the mirror when a thought hits me over the head.
I don’t want either of them looking up and discovering which room is mine because where would I hide then? Though, come to think of it, there are so many rooms, it’d probably end up being like that scene from Friends. The one where Joey can’t find the hot girl in the apartment opposite. Still, best not to take any chances. They probably both spent a lot of time here as kids.
Not that I can hide out here for too much longer. I can’t exactly order UberEats or keep sneaking snacks from the kitchen. And I also have work next week, but at least they’ll both be gone by then. Yes, to work. Not even to work my notice period.
Not that Griffin worries me. Alexander, however . . . he makes me worry for my sanity. I press my hands to my heated cheeks, trying very hard not to think about last night. Maybe, I consider, now that we’ve had sex again, he might travel back to London earlier than originally planned. You know, like he’s worked me out of his system.