Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I sucked in a breath. “You promised to delete those.”
“I said I would try.”
“What an interesting way to say, ‘I lied.’”
“I’m not sorry.” He made me feel as if we were the only ones in this stairwell. “How long are you staying at this party?”
“I’m here with my fiancé.” I spat out the words and held up my hand. “I’m getting married.”
He eyed the ring, clenching his jaw.
“I doubt he would appreciate you talking to me,” I said, “given our history.”
“You’re finally acknowledging that we have one?”
“Never.”
Silence.
The more I stared at him, the more I realized that he was ten times sexier than he was on the night we first met, and I needed to get—and stay—the hell away from him.
“Well, sir,” I said, “it was very nice chatting with you about the weather and—”
“Is your fiancé as good at kissing you as I was?”
“If you’d ever kissed my lips, which you haven’t, it clearly wasn’t memorable.”
“I’m not talking about the lips on your mouth.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “Surely you remember me kissing the other ones.”
“I…” I swallowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I can give you a reminder while I’m in town, if you like.” He lowered his voice, and his lips grazed mine, setting every nerve in my body on fire. “I always loved the taste of your pussy…”
The woman behind him looked at us in shock, and my cheeks burned like hell.
“Would you like that reminder or not?” Travis asked, but I didn’t answer.
I pushed him away and rushed through the door without another word.
One glass of “Rainy Day” wine wasn’t enough.
I needed a whole damn bottle.
Stat.
THREE
PRESENT DAY
TRAVIS
Manhattan, New York
“Um, who the hell was that?” Madeline followed me outside. “She’s stunning.”
“Tell me about it.” I strolled toward the waiting town car, ignoring her question.
“I don’t remember any rumors about you having a girlfriend,” she said. “How serious were you two?”
“It’d be a lot easier to understand your words if you weren’t stuffing cake into your mouth every few seconds.”
She eyed the strawberry slice in her hand—the sixth one she’d eaten tonight—and wolfed it down.
“Welcome back, Mr. Carter,” The driver held the door open as we approached. “Miss Dawson.”
As we slid onto the backseat, Ralph looked up from his phone.
“You just lost Calvin Klein as a sponsor,” he said. “Apparently, they want to move on to someone who doesn’t visit strip clubs to solve personal problems.”
“Maybe you should show them the video of Miss Dawson dancing so they can reconsider.”
“I tried that already. They’re officially moving on from you.”
I made a mental note to burn every brief from their brand when I returned home.
“Gatorade and Nike are your biggest ones left, but I’m thinking we should reach out to them instead of waiting,” he said. “As far as the smaller sponsors, you still have twenty. Percentage-wise, that’s awful, but recoverable with time.”
I didn’t have the energy to do the math at this moment.
“Who was that woman in the stairwell, Mr. Carter?” Madeline moved across from me. “I feel like you’re avoiding my question.”
“I am.”
“Is there any bad blood between you two?”
“There’s nothing between us,” I said. “I’ve never seen that woman before today.”
“The conversation I overheard says otherwise.”
Ralph put on his glasses, looking between us.
“We should have dinner at Per Se before we head home.” I steered the conversation elsewhere. “I always treat my new staff members to a private dinner, and I’d like to remain consistent.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Carter, I’d like to stay on topic.” Madeline buckled her seatbelt. “Regarding the woman who was in the stairwell with us, she’s—”
“A goddamn ghost,” I interrupted, my chest aching like hell. “She doesn’t exist, we’ve never met, and if you think I’m making this up, you can turn in your resignation letter and take a bus back to Vegas. Understood?”
“But I—” She sighed. “Understood.”
“Good.”
We all sat in an uncomfortable silence until reaching a standstill traffic in Hell’s Kitchen.
“Miss Dawson?” Ralph was looking at me, not her. “Did you happen to catch the name of this person in the stairwell who doesn’t exist?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”
“I’m being serious, Miss Dawson.”
“I can’t afford to lose this job,” she whispered. “I’m betting my all on this, and Mr. Carter is clearly looking for any reason to fire me.”
“Your answer will be off the record,” he said. “Mr. Carter can step out of the car if he doesn’t want to hear it. We’ll be stuck in this traffic for a while anyway.”
I didn’t step outside.
“What was her name, Miss Dawson?”
“It was something like ‘Tina’ or ‘Tanya.’” She tapped her lip. “No, Tatiana. It was Tatiana.”
Silence.
“My apologies for asking.” He turned away from me. “That woman is definitely a ghost…”
ACT FOUR
BACK THEN
TATIANA
Reno, Nevada
Travis (Don’t Answer Him)
I could’ve sworn we agreed on nine o’clock tonight.