Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Nothing.
My nerves are eating me alive this morning.
I need protein and sugar and coffee.
I need to snap out of it.
I’m shaking my head at my stupidity when my gaze skims across my apartment to the front door. All three locks are disengaged.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Confusion causes my blood to creep through my veins like molasses. I never forget to lock my doors. Never. Ever. Fucking never. With three leaps to the door, I snap all of the locks into place before choking out a relieved sob.
Someone was in my home.
Vaughn.
Tears threaten to spill, but I furiously blink them away. He won’t own me this time. The heavy gun in my palm wobbles as I imagine myself pointing it at him. A calm washes over me and my hand stills.
If it comes between me and Vaughn, I’ll choose me.
Every time.
I compose myself and make my way back to the bathroom. I have another missed text on my phone. But this time it’s from an unknown number.
Vaughn.
Unknown: Meet me for breakfast. The hotel on 7th and Madison has a brilliant selection of muffins.
Muffins?
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: It’s Gray, little quitter. Let me treat you. We both know I owe you. I have six years to make up for.
Relief floods through me once I realize Vaughn doesn’t have my phone number. I went to great lengths to keep this number hidden from anyone I don’t want to have it.
Me: I’m more of an omelet and French toast kind of gal. But, sadly for you, I’d rather eat alone.
Despite my reply, I find myself rooting around in my closet for something to wear. I dress professionally for this man every single day, yet he has never once looked me in the eye. Not once has he spoken to me. Not one time has he appreciatively glanced over my outfit.
Except yesterday.
Yesterday he seemed to have realized what was in his face all along.
And now he’s, what? Curious. One might even conclude that he feels bad. It makes me want to rub it in his face. Make him understand that I’m not something who can be looked over or forgotten. I am someone. Someone special and beautiful and worth knowing.
Unknown: Dear Violet, you’ll never be alone as far as I’m concerned. Twenty minutes. I’ll be waiting.
His words should alarm me, but right now, I’m attempting to suppress the good kind of shiver that is rocketing through me. Excitement courses through me. I want to dangle in front of him what he can’t have. What he was too blind to see all along. Since Vaughn, I’ve enjoyed any moment when I can make a man feel powerless in my presence. Because it wasn’t too long ago that the roles were grossly reversed.
With a skip in my step, I start for a red dress but pause with my hand in the air. Red reminds me of Vaughn. I skim over to a white sweater dress I bought for a date I never ended up going on. Because I’m feeling slightly bitchy, I slide the soft material down over my body sans bra. The nude lace thong is all that stands between my flesh and the cashmere. I find some thigh high boots that hit just below the bottom hem of the short dress. The look is sexy, but I’m also trying to be a little classy so I find a belt to go over the dress and a grey infinity scarf to halfway attempt to hide my bare breasts beneath the fabric. As soon as I step in front of the mirror, I know he won’t be able to help noticing me now.
I’ll be on the radar of any man with a working dick.
I look hot and I know it.
Smirking, I grab my purse and a coat before leaving to meet my soon-to-be ex-boss. My gun fits in my purse and that’s right where it will stay until I make sure Vaughn is still just a figment of my imagination.
T-minus thirteen days until I move on to my newest adventure. But until then, I’m going to make Grayson Maxwell regret letting me slip through his fingertips.
I sit at my usual table wearing my usual scowl. Twenty minutes comes and goes. Then thirty. But, thank fuck, thirty-eight minutes after my text, she shows up at the hotel restaurant looking like she owns the damn place.
Her hair is what I notice first outside the window as she exits the cab. The wind sweeps it up in a lover’s grip and the sun catches the gold in her mane. She fucking shines. Brilliant and beautiful. And mine.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip and feel a smile ghosting up on one side. This woman revives dead parts of me. She makes me feel alive. Like smiles and excitement and the thrill of a chase. Her scent lingers on my lips, despite my brushing my teeth this morning, and I can’t help the groan that escapes me as I watch her strut toward the building. My cock is rock hard as I imagine peeling off her leather coat and peeking at what she’s hiding underneath. I’m already standing by the time she enters the restaurant. Her eyes light up when she sees me. I jerk my head to signal her in my direction.