Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“You’ll meet Xavier tomorrow,” Fiona said from her spot in the front. I’d hoped to get more of a grace period to get my bearings in Sydney, but apparently Xavier really needed a babysitter as fast as possible.
“I read up on Xavier on the internet,” I said.
Connor grinned at me in the rearview mirror. “And you’re still here. You’ve got balls, girl.”
“I suppose most of it is exaggerated or fake anyway. The press have a tendency to blow things out of proportion for shock value.”
Connor and Fiona exchanged a look.
“Right?” I prompted.
“Right,” Fiona said, but Connor didn’t say anything.
I liked to go informed into difficult situations, and Xavier—The Beast—Stevens seemed to be a difficult situation. Reading up on him had been like a cheap high school drama. He was known for his countless affairs with actresses, athletes, journalists, groupies, pretty much with everything that qualified as female and had a body to die for.
That meant I was safe.
Fiona and Connor lived in a beautiful estate in Darlinghurst with a view over the ocean. My room was twice the size of my room at home and I had my own bathroom. Fiona really had built a nice life for herself. It was obvious that she had decorated their home. The soft berry and beige tones had always been her favorite. Connor must be a man who was content with his manliness if he could bear so much pink in his home.
After a quick shower, I dropped down on my bed, determined to rest for only a few minutes. I was woken much later by a soft knock, and Fiona poked her head in without waiting for a reply. Some things would never change. “Did I wake you?” she asked with a small frown as she slipped in and sank down beside me.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, sitting up. “What time is it?” My body was completely confused with the change in time zones.
“Almost six. I thought we could have dinner together. Connor bought so much meat I think he’s trying to put the cow back together.”
I snorted and hugged Fiona. She might look like a bimbo, but her humor was cutthroat. “I missed you.”
She let out a shaky breath and hugged me back. After a moment, she pulled back, as composed as always. “Come on, Connor is probably already massaging seasoning into the beef as if it’s my ass cheek. I don’t want him to strain his fingers before he gets the chance to put them to use on me tonight.”
I shoved her lightly. “Holy shit, TMI, Fiona. I don’t want to imagine Connor kneading your ass whenever I eat steak.”
She sent me a teasing smile. “Who’s marinating your ass, Evie?”
I flushed and stalked past her out of the room. Fiona came after me, laughing. From the kitchen window, I could see Connor manning the barbecue. He looked like a man about to set sail to undiscovered lands. Why did men take their barbecuing so seriously?
Fiona began assembling vegetables and fruit on the counter.
I stifled a smile. She gave me a look. “What? I know what you and Dad enjoyed eating when I was still home. I doubt your greens intake improved once I left. Why don’t you help me with the fruit platter?”
She had a point. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy fruits and salads, and I ate plenty, but in the evening I preferred the taste of warm comfort foods like lasagna, mac and cheese, or a good roast.
“I suppose you will change that now,” I said.
“I’ll try. Not sure I’ll succeed, knowing how stubborn you can be,” she muttered as she prepared a salad while I arranged a fruit platter.
“I’m not stubborn,” I protested, which was a freaking lie. Fiona and I were both mules disguised as humans.
“It’ll benefit your health, trust me,” she said in the same enthused voice she’d always used when talking about fitness or healthy eating. Fiona truly enjoyed her lifestyle and I envied her for it, and more: for the body that it had given her.
“Maybe I don’t want to lose weight,” I said as I slipped a piece of mango into my mouth. Another, even bigger lie. Since I could remember I’d bought every magazine that had promised to include the newest, life-changing diet. I’d tried them all and had given up on them just as quickly.
She pursed her lips as she poured dressing over the salad. “I didn’t say anything about losing weight. I talked about improving your health.”
“Isn’t that a synonym for losing weight?”
“No, it’s not. You can be healthy and have a few pounds more on your ribs. But if you ate healthy and did sports, you would probably lose weight.”
She was probably right, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a size zero badly enough to do sports and forgo carbs and chocolate for the rest of my life.