Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
What if this is forever?
What if Marissa Quail never comes back?
“It might as well be,” Paige insists. “He feels responsible for the mess, so he brought his little brother home, and you’re taking care of him now. I hope the—” She notices people around us and stops mid-sentence. She forms an O with her right hand and pokes the index finger of her left hand into it several times. “I hope it’s worth it. Is he good?”
“Paige! That was so eighth grade.” And I should know because I live with an eighth grader. “Yes. Mind-blowing. Everything you can imagine and more—and you’re gonna be stuck imagining because a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“Aw, you’re no fun.” She flicks her blond hair behind her ear as she scowls. “So, why the big secret, then? You two sound happy and right on track to wedding bells. Except for the coma thing, I mean.”
Her question hangs between us.
“You promise to keep a secret?” I put up a hand, waiting until she nods. “We have a plan. So, Jordan’s mom was an intern at the company a long time ago. It caused a huge scandal, and Mag had to rebuild everything. He wants to avoid future scandals and he’s a stickler for HR policies he helped design. Once Marissa, Jordan’s mom, wakes up from her coma, I’m going to move to a consulting role. I’ll no longer be his direct employee, and everything will be out in the open then. It’s getting serious.”
I think.
I hope it’s as serious as I want it to be.
“Wow,” she mouths silently, before her face shifts neutral. “Magnus Heron wants to avoid a scandal? Since when? He bats around the press like a cat with a mouse.”
“Yes,” I say. “But not this kind. He’s been seriously burned by his dad’s bad reputation and doesn’t want it happening again. Never, ever.”
She closes her eyes, lets out a breath, and blinks her eyes open.
“Paige? What’s wrong?”
“So, I really don’t want to be the one to do this, but it’s probably better you hear it from me...Brina, maybe you should go back and read that influencer’s posts online. Remember that whole big fake engagement lie? That was low. And dirty. And just plain wrong. Your Magnum man doesn’t really seem like the sorta guy who avoids scandal unless he has something to gain.”
My eyes dip to the table.
“Who knows,” I mutter.
Deep down, I think she’s wrong. I saw how hurt he was when he opened up about the past, about his abusive prick of a father leaving so much wreckage in his wake.
“Will you be home tonight?” she asks, staring at me like a puppy.
“Not sure. I said I’d be back at his place later and...well, maybe I should at least talk to him about it.”
She shrugs. “I hope he’s honest.”
Our food comes. The fettuccine here has always been my fave, but her words won’t leave my head. Today’s scrumptious fettuccine is tainted by the ugly possibility that Paige could be right.
Mag did lie about being engaged for good PR.
Why did his fake fiancée, Mariska Crista, call him King Asshole after they parted ways? Was she that scorned, thinking it was real?
So many questions stab away like spinning knives.
For all I know, his interest in me could be a front for dealing with Jordan in the easiest way possible. It’s no secret I’ve gotten through the kid’s wall in ways he can’t.
But he kissed me in Phoenix before Jordan was an issue.
And then he told me to forget about it.
Shit, I’m confused.
“Are you okay?” Paige asks, frowning.
She can’t help but see the game of he loves me, he loves me not playing out in my eyes.
I look up, realizing I’ve been quiet for too long.
“You’re not talking, but you’re not eating much, Brina.”
I look down at my bowl. I’ve been swirling my fork around for a good while. I meet Paige’s eyes again. “I’m fine. I’m just not hungry.”
“I thought you were starving?” she asks.
It’s not argumentative at all, but worried, and it annoys me to no end.
“Is this about boss boyfriend?” she asks. This time, I let her have at her silly nicknames.
My phone vibrates loudly, saving me from having to answer.
Paige rolls her eyes. “Ignore it.”
Hugo’s name flashes across the screen.
“Can’t. It’s office stuff and Mag’s home with Jordan.”
I pick up the phone. “Yes?”
“Our airline exec wanted glossy brochures, but the image keeps pixelating on the gloss,” Hugo says. “Angie’s been trying to iron it out for hours.”
“Uhh—you can’t just fix it and reprint?” This is a junior level designer issue. Come on, Hugo, give me a break.
He sighs. “Changing the color scheme might do it, but they insisted on brand colors. Um, after the whole ‘art project’ debacle, Heron told me I’m not to communicate directly with customers. But our options are to change the color scheme or move to a non-gloss.”