Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“How unfortunate for your fluffy clientele. I’m sure they’ll miss you.”
“That’s the best you’ve got?” I demand, spinning to face him. “I guess you must be running out of those idle threats.”
“They’re not idle, darling. I mean every word.”
I pause, because his expression absolutely belies his drawling delivery. “You’re not going to mess with my visa.” I hate the lack of conviction in my words, the upward inflection at the end.
“No. I’ll just have you deported.”
“Unbelievable.” At least, I want it to be.
“Have you even looked into how difficult it will be to remain in this country?”
I did. In the break room. And, honestly, it doesn’t look easy. I’ll probably need to leave the country to apply and start the process afresh. I guess I’d refused to believe it because I’d closed the web page and filed the issue for the attention of Next-Week Evie.
“The path you’re on currently leads to deportation.”
“So says you.”
“I’m glad you were listening.”
“Urgh!”
“Do you know the Home Office will hold your passport and only return it when you reach the door of your plane back to the US? You might even be held in detention if you’re determined a flight risk. Which you obviously are.”
My heart flaps like a sparrow in a cage as I spin away, forcing my chin high. Oh, but it’s hard being dignified when you’re filled with panic, your socks are soggy, and your borrowed sneakers are rubbing at the heel.
I’m aware of the car coming to a stop behind me, but I force myself to hobble on, ignoring the stupid pang in my chest lamenting that our moment is done. Then the rain suddenly stops, though the dark shadow of a cloud passes overhead.
No, not a cloud. A huge black umbrella.
“You are the most obstinate woman,” says a familiar yet resigned voice as Oliver’s large presence appears by my side. I totally ignore the way his biceps flex under his jacket as he gently lifts my hand, placing it there.
“Did I say you could touch me?”
“Yes, on Saturday. Repeatedly.”
I laugh even though I don’t mean to.
“If I remember rightly, you demanded it. ‘Yes. Harder. Here.’” Dipping his chin, he slants me a look. “You really were a dominant little thing.”
I shake my head. I guess my heart is just a traitor for this pretty face, because Lord knows it can’t be his personality that stops me from setting him on his ass.
Chapter 13
OLIVER
“Why are you doing this to me?” Eve glances up, her pace not altering.
A smile touches my lips. That scowl . . .
“You know why.”
“You would’ve saved yourself a journey if you’d listened to me Sunday. How’d you find out where I work, anyway?”
“Haven’t you ever googled yourself, doctor?” While Eve had said she was a vet, I’d been surprised to discover she is both a doctor of veterinary medicine and a member of the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons. This is no reflection on her—she’s clearly an intelligent woman. It’s just a pity her choice in men seems to make her appear otherwise, myself included.
“Can’t say I have,” she answers without glancing away.
“But you’ve googled me.”
Eve’s cheeks take on a hue that has nothing to do with the damp air.
I remind myself the only reason I’m here is because of Atherton. Nothing to do with her. “I see you have.”
“It was a slow day at work. What can I say?”
If she’s spent time cruising the internet, she might have also discovered how challenging it’ll be for her to remain in the country. Unless you can engage the services of the country’s leading immigration lawyer. Which I can.
“Were you sad to discover I wasn’t one of the devil’s minions?”
“Especially when I read about all those orphanages you built and the puppies you rescued.”
“Saint or sinner.” I sigh. “Romeo or the villain. There are middle grounds, you know.”
“When we’re talking about blackmail?” She slants me a less-than-complimentary glance. “Not in my book.”
“Tell me, what would work, in your book?” Ignoring her bark of laughter, I add, “It’s not like you’ve nothing to gain. You want to stay in London. I can help you. You want your life back. I can help you with that too. Improve it, even.”
“Delusional! How could having you in my life possibly improve it?”
“I could think of a few ways,” I find myself purring.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She swings away, her damp ponytail swishing like an angry kitten’s tail. “I can solve my own problems.”
“Undoubtedly. You’re very resourceful.” She doesn’t bite. “But I could alleviate a lot of the stress.” And not just with sex. “I have connections. The best law team in London at my service.”
“Oh, my Lord,” she says, suddenly affecting the southern tone she’d used at the hotel Saturday evening. “I am just so honored that you’d take an interest in me, a poor, hapless, helpless little woman.”