Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“Sweet! You must be doing something juicy tonight. Is he hot?”
“Maisy!” I hiss. “...I actually don’t know what I’m doing yet. It’s still technically a business meeting my boss and—”
She bursts into wild laughter like the chipmunk brat she is.
“Keep telling yourself that! Oh, I promise not to bug you unless the house burns down. Go have fun with your freaky boss.”
I wrinkle my nose, wondering how much she overheard me and Jenn.
“Mais, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but he’s my boss. That thing in Hawaii was just a crazy mishap, and I—”
A loud knock at the door chokes me off mid-sentence.
“Hang on,” I say. “There’s someone at the door.”
“Probably NIH.”
“NIH?” I cross to the door, playing dumb.
“Naked In Hawaii. Jenn said that’s her code.”
Shoot me now.
As I’m crossing the room, I wish I had time to figure out why my bestie decided to spill secrets with my little sister who gets easily obsessed with my razor-thin dating life.
I open the door after a quick look through the peephole.
There’s a woman in a hotel uniform standing in front of me, holding a garment bag.
“Mr. Winthrope sent this up. Could you please try it on? I’m able to arrange minor adjustments, or if it’s the wrong size, I’ll bring you other options.”
“Other options? Um...”
“He wasn’t sure about your exact size, so I helped him make the best selections.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“Please try it on. Let me know if you need help,” she says, holding up her offering.
I nod and pull the bag into the room.
“Hey, Maisy?” I say into the phone.
“I know. You have to go because NIH sent you a Cinderella dress. I heard, and I’m jealous. Your life is so cool.”
“No—not cool. We met—”
“When he was naked in your room. I know. Hella wild story to tell people someday when you’re married and rich.”
“Maisy.” I grit my teeth while she laughs it up.
Sigh.
There must be some way to explain to my little sister why dating your boss isn’t remotely cool. I don’t want her getting the wrong ideas.
Like any big sister, she should do as I say, not as I do.
Also, we’re not technically dating.
...are we?
It’s a meeting. Dinner. And probably more soul-stealing kisses with a man who can make or break my entire bank account with a simple call.
“Maisy, I love you, but grow up.” At least I can still rock my scary adult voice. “One of these days, you’re going to meet a boy and I am going to hound you until you deliver your firstborn. Payback is a bitch.”
“Come on, Pippa. If I didn’t give you crap, who else would? Jenn’s way too nice.”
“Whatever. I have to go. Say hello to Dad for me. Love you both.”
“Love you too.” She hangs up.
My eyes flick back to the garment bag dangling from the hanger in my hand. I slip into the bathroom and start unpacking it.
Hello, fairy tale.
The dress is bright blue with a satin bodice embellished with tiny diamonds. The strings tie around the neck. There’s an opening in the back and the skirt is more flowing blue silk.
The whole dress is crisscrossed with neat lines and long rounded shapes.
Feathers, I realize.
I smile until my cheeks hurt.
I’m not sure I’m worthy.
I’ve never worn anything this expensive with a designer label.
I almost hate that it fits me perfectly, and I’m instantly in love with it, turning in the mirror to see myself from every angle.
When I exit the bathroom and open the door, the seamstress is still waiting outside.
She presses her hands together and smiles. “Excellent fit. Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful! Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“Do you know if—I mean, did Mr. Winthrope pick it out himself?” It’s a tad more conservative than what I would’ve expected, but it’s absolutely gorgeous.
“He did. He left a card. It should be inside the bag somewhere. Since the dress works, I’ll see myself out.”
I head back into the bathroom and fish the card out of the garment bag. I’m not sure how I missed it the first time.
It’s just a Winthrope card with the trademark W with Brock’s handwriting on the back.
Your proof I know how to treat a woman—particularly a beautiful one obsessed with flying poop factories. I’ll see you at seven.
I can’t help but laugh.
It’s either laugh hysterically or die on the spot.
A dress like this calls for makeup.
But I hadn’t planned on doing any content this weekend, so I packed pretty light. Against my better judgment, I call Jenn and ask for her makeup kit.
She’s in my room a few minutes later, staring all wide-eyed. “You look like a sex-sicle! Someone’s decked out for prom night. Rich people prom.”
“Hardly.” I wave my hand.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “My prom dress wasn’t a hundredth this nice.”
“Should I do your makeup too?”
“I’ll take care of it.” I really don’t want her here when Brock shows up.