Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
When one of the guys spots Nick, he yells out his name, and everyone at the table stands to give Nick attention. I mentally roll my eyes. Nick is right about one thing: rich people are fake. But you know what else they are? Rich! I’ll gladly take a fake, wealthy man over a heartfelt, poor one. Love doesn’t pay the bills. Love doesn’t have connections. These guys…they’re the future of America. They’ll graduate from college and follow in their rich daddy’s footsteps, going on to work at Fortune 500 companies all over the world, and I’m going to snag one of them. Nick might’ve gotten me in the door with Elite, but that will only get me so far. Everyone knows money talks. My last name doesn’t mean anything to anyone. But some of these guys…one mention of their name and I’ll be heading straight to the top.
“How’s it going?” Nick asks, greeting each of his friends, who are probably already thinking of how they can use their friendship with a famous quarterback to their advantage. Nick went into the NFL as a first round draft pick as a backup quarterback. Due to an injury of the starting QB, he got a chance to show everyone what he’s made of, and he soared. He took Carolina straight to the Super Bowl and won. Something that almost never happens with a first year rookie.
“Jase!” Nick fist bumps his friend. “It’s been too long, man.”
His friend nods in agreement, but his eyes aren’t on Nick—they’re on me. And now, mine are on him. I take in his gelled ink-black hair, short enough not to be messy, but long enough I could run my fingers through it. His eyes, just as dark. Hard. Unforgiving. He’s wearing a button-down white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I immediately spot several tattoos donning his muscular forearms. All shades of black and grey, no color. It’s obvious, whoever this guy is, he isn’t one of Nick’s typical friends. He doesn’t even try to suck up to Nick like the others do. My eyes continue their perusal down his front. He’s lean, and if judging by the veins running down his forearms, he works out, but he’s not a gym rat. He’s wearing jeans that fit him just right and a pair of Nike’s. Football player, maybe? The business majors usually wear Tom Ford or Brooks Brothers.
“And who’s this?” Jase asks Nick with a knowing smirk. He’s caught me checking him out.
“Just a friend of mine,” Nick says dryly. When Jase clears his throat, indicating, not so subtly, he wants Nick to introduce us more thoroughly, Nick groans. “Celeste, this is Jase. We played ball together at Piermont Academy and at NCU. He was two years ahead of me.” Hmm…so, he is a football player and a rich kid.
“Jase Crawford,” Jase says, extending his hand. I give it willingly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you on campus, but we’ve never formally met.”
“Celeste is—” Nick begins, but I cut him off.
“…busy with school,” I say, finishing Nick’s sentence for him as I shake Jase’s hand. There’s no reason for Jase to know the school I’m busy with contains grades nine through twelve. I’m eighteen. That’s all that matters.
Nick groans again, and I quickly shoot him a look that says if he groans one more damn time, I’ll kill him.
“Nice.” Jase grins, still holding my hand in his. “I graduated a couple years ago. Definitely don’t miss the school work.” Wealthy, educated, in shape, and hot as hell. I’m pretty sure I’ve just hit the jackpot.
“It’s nice to meet you. How about you take a break from playing poker and get me a drink?” I bat my lashes, and Jase throws his head back with a laugh—one that has my insides melting like a pile of goo. What is wrong with me? I don’t melt. I’m not that girl.
“All right,” he says. “What would you like?” His lips curl up into a sexy smile.
“Something fruity would be great.” My gaze stays glued to his mesmerizing mouth. His lips are full, and I try to imagine what it would feel like to kiss him.
“Got it.” He lets go of my hand, and I miss it immediately. Jesus! Get a grip. He’s just a guy. A rich guy who’s hot and educated, but just a guy all the same. He went to Piermont Academy like Nick. He most likely comes from an influential family, and my goal is to see if he’s someone I can use as a stepping stone to get me to where I want to go. Stick to the plan, Celeste!
When he walks away, Nick turns toward me. “Listen, Celeste, I know what you’re thinking, but—”
“Nick, don’t you dare cock-block me!” I say, cutting him off. “I swear to God, I will beat your ass,” I hiss lowly, so no one can hear me.