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)
He chuckles and kisses my hair again. “Good night, sweetheart.”
Aaand I’m melting.
It’s the first time he’s ever called me sweetheart, and it’s a tease. Part of a lame joke.
His proximity definitely makes it hard to sleep. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if his phone hadn’t interrupted us.
If instead of running out of my apartment, he let me unbutton his shirt and stroke my hands across his chest.
If he’d let me taste his skin the same way he tasted mine.
If he buried himself in me, what would that be like?
It’s probably for the best I didn’t find out.
Because if I had...I’m not sure I’d ever have a sane thought again after basking in all his smarmy, infuriating, and yes, addictive glory.
16
Rich Prick (Magnus)
A soft dark glow oozes through my window, pushing through the blinds.
I glance over at Sabrina, sprawled out on the bed, her head on my arm, cinnamon hair splayed on my pillow.
She’s fully dressed, except for her bare feet.
Not ideal.
I choke down a lump of frustration in my throat. A crash course in executive management isn’t how last night was supposed to end. There are better reasons for her to wind up in my bed, preferably naked, and I need to rectify that soon.
Since I’m up, though...
Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I disentangle myself from her and grab my phone. Maybe there’s an update on Marissa, some miraculous recovery. Good news to give Jordan would go a long way toward smoothing things over, even if I’m not a believer in miracles.
I know better.
His mom was mugged and beaten to a pulp on her way to the bus stop yesterday. Street hooligans looking for easy cash and an easier target. When I showed up to bring him home, the poor kid thought I was some mob boss sent to kill them.
He doesn’t know me.
Marissa never wanted him to, and she was right to be leery.
I can’t blame the kid for being petrified of going home with a stranger the same day someone put his mom in a coma. I was shocked, too.
She doesn’t want me in their lives. I’ve begged to know if they ever needed my help. Money, resources, contacts, anything.
But she’s never let me do more than send a few cheesy gifts each year and pay for his tuition.
Now, I find out I’m her emergency contact.
I glance at my phone, waking the screen, and hold my breath.
Aside from a dozen early morning company notifications, it’s blank.
No missed calls. No news.
Damn.
Given the shit my old man caused, sticking his dick in employees, I should be relieved Marissa’s assault kept me from making a mistake of my own.
Surprise—I’m not.
This thing with Brina isn’t a casual fling.
I want to take it further. I want her so bad I could split myself open and let her see the real me, not the snarling savage of a boss she already knows.
She intrigues me in a way no woman ever has. I knew it the second she baptized my shoes in cinnamon latte.
That call came at the worst time. I could’ve handled this crisis better with Sabrina Bristol out of my system.
But a voice in the back of my head asks, would she really be out of your system after one night?
I scoff at the thought, already knowing the answer. She’s no ordinary woman, and I’m not my old man with his endless hunt for warm, disposable flesh.
Frankly, the answer fucking scares me.
I smile down at her sleeping figure and pull the blanket up around her shoulders. As much as I’d love to linger here all morning, it’s time to face the one-kid teenage firing squad.
I still haven’t told Jordan we’re related, and heavy steps on my wood floor tell me he’s already pacing around in the living room. The steps become more distant and the pacing ends.
What’s he doing now?
I exit my bedroom and head into the living room.
“Jordan?”
He’s not there, and if he hears me, he doesn’t answer.
Frowning, I walk around the common rooms looking for him, and finally find him in the heated sunroom attached to the balcony, staring out at the frosty Chicago skyline still bathed in darkness.
He sits on the floor, hugging himself and staring up at the first pinpricks of sun over the horizon.
Hell.
How do I do this? Just waltz in and tell the poor torn-up kid I’m the missing big brother he never knew he had?
I should get him ready for school and drop him off.
Only, it’s Saturday, for fuck’s sake.
There’s no school today.
One less thing to deal with, I guess...and a lot more to deal with face-to-face with my broken little brother.
“Hey. How’re you holding up, Jordan?” I ask in my most non-CEO voice, approaching slowly. I don’t want to scare him. I save that for underachieving employees.
He turns his head and our eyes connect.