Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
You know my best friend, Kyla Herrera, wonders why I took up the habit of chopping wood—of all things—when I need to blow off steam or have had a shit day at work.
It’s because I can’t chop off heads.
That is very much illegal.
And I don’t look good in orange.
Or is it white now?
Powder blue maybe.
Hfal.
Oh…no.
No.
No.
No.
Now is far from the time for my medication to be wearing off.
The only voice beside my own I need to be hearing at this point in time is his.
Brushing off the unexpected whisper—something I’m quite frankly great about doing with or without drugs—I release an exasperated sigh, “Mr. Draak, if you and my mother could please cease the sexual activity-”
“There is no sexual activity here,” he growls in obvious offense.
Great.
He’s got the politician lie shit just loaded up and ready to go.
“Fine.” I tilt my head to one side to assist in holding my composure. “Physical activity.”
“There is no physical activity!”
“Mr. Draak, I am going to politely urge you to check your tone as well as your volume when continuing to speak to me for the duration of my assignment. I would hate to report to the board a hostile welcoming rather than a warm one. I have no doubt they would frown upon that or seek action in my defense.”
I’m twitched a small glare in response.
“Would you say we are on the same page now?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Let’s see if we can stay that way.” Another set of daggers is thrown my way yet is easily disregarded. “You say that you are not involved in physical activity; however, your bodies say otherwise.”
“They. Don’t.”
“Mr. Draak, is she or is she not lying on top of you?”
His cut, scruff-covered, bruised square jaw presents a slight tick prior to his answer. “You are making an oversimplification of the situation, Mate.”
Hfal.
Not acknowledging the internal voice is easily done due to the bewilderment of his word choice. “Excuse me?”
“May.”
Bafflement remains. “What?”
Grumbles precede a poorly formed question, “May I call you?”
“What?!”
“Yes.”
Being increasingly befuddled has me dropping my jaw further to repeat the one-word response I’m practically barking like I’m doing a Lil Jon impression on a throwback SNL skit.
“What,” the male slowly begins, voice raspy in such a way it feels as though it’s being gently scraped against my skin, “may I call you during our interactions?”
“Miss Pennington whenever we’re in the office.”
There’s no ignoring the sight of his thin lips curling upwards. “And when we’re not?”
Mmm…my bad.
That bit of poor phrasing was absolutely all my mistake.
Why did I say that shit like there is going to be a distinction?
Why did I say that shit like there is more here than there actually is or ever will be?
Why the fuck did I say that like we’re in the middle of a workplace romance that needs boundaries to stop us from fucking each other in the elevator where other members of the company can see?
Hfal.
Oh yeah.
I remember.
I’m clearly in need of another dose of my crazy pills which is why my brain and mouth aren’t sending out united messages.
At the rate this morning is going, I’ll need to have them refilled early.
I need to get it together.
I need to keep it together.
I need to not have a Scarlet Witch like moment where I do something a bit rash due to the overwhelming emotions I wasn’t expecting to be experiencing.
Mother who ghosted me or not.
I am here to do a job, and my job is what I will do.
“Mr. Draak,” my voice remains even in spite of my blossoming irritation, “if you and my mother could please end whatever activity it is you’re involved in-”
“We’re not involved in anything anymore,” he arrogantly insists prior to untangling his body from hers. “And we won’t be for at least another forty-five minutes.” His one-handed shove of her frame off his results in a thud sound reverberating around the destroyed room. “Or with my unfortunate luck most likely less because I don’t know how quickly orcs metabolize poison and because The Great Ones evidently have a grudge against me.”
Perhaps I should give him one of my doses?
He clearly needs it as much as I fucking do.
“That female is not your mother,” the pompous male declares while rolling the opposite direction he discarded her unmoving body. “She cannot possibly be your mother.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Look at you,” he bluntly insists at the same time he plants his palms flat on the crooked desk. “And look at her.”
Shock over his continued rudeness drops my jaw once more.
“She’s clearly an orc-”
“Orcs are fictious creatures, Mr. Draak.”
“And see just the fact that you’re saying that further illustrates my point.”
“Wh-”
“However, let’s backtrack, shall we?”
The rhetorical question causes another wave of speechlessness to occur.
“That being,” his head tips itself towards the unmoving woman I’m not sure what I should do about, both professionally and personally speaking, “is a full orc. Green skin-”