Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
During the hour-long ride to Philadelphia, I’d nestled up against Bash’s chest, pretending to sleep, listening to his heart thump steadily beneath my ear, and tried to remember how I’d gotten to this place. Everything had seemed so simple two nights ago—sneak into the gala, sweet-talk Justin Hardy into a meeting, make him fall in love with Project Daisy Chain, then resume my perfectly good life in Linden, with my job and my aging parents and my secondhand furniture and an iPad full of interior designs that might never become reality.
It had seemed like enough.
But then there’d been Bash—gorgeous, brilliant, funny, deeply kind Bash—who’d gone along with my schemes, and listened to my truths, and made me feel like my dreams weren’t distant twinkling stars but ripe fruit just waiting to be picked. I could feel myself falling for him, and it scared me. A lot.
“Here you go, cutie. You look like you need this.” Noelle, the PR person, wandered over with a friendly smile and a can of energy drink she thrust into my hand. “Are you a friend of Zee’s? What did you say your name was again?”
“Rowe.” I took the can and fiddled with the tab uncertainly. “And no, I’ve never met Za—Zee before this morning. Love his music, though.”
“Interesting.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “You must be friends with the male model, then? Or with Bash Dayne? Are you two dating?”
“Ha. No.” Only in my dreams. “I’m just here as Bash’s moral support, kinda.” I shrugged.
“Aww. That’s sweet of you.” She smirked a little. “What do you do, Rowe?”
“I…” I opened my mouth to answer, then shut it again with a clack. Belatedly—and I blamed this on how damn tired I was—I noticed the gleam in Noelle’s eye and realized she wasn’t asking a friendly question. More likely, she was working on a press release.
Zee Barlo Rescued from Jail by Male Model, Wealthy Investor… and Part-Time Burrito Bandito.
I felt my cheeks go hot.
In real life, I rarely felt bad about myself. I was a good person. I worked hard. I tried my best to help people. I never worried about how much money I had, except when I didn’t have enough of it to make ends meet, or how I didn’t have a fancy degree, except when it prevented me from getting the meetings I wanted. I was proud that I’d grown up in tiny Linden. I liked that most of my clothes were high-quality designer labels I’d gotten from a thrift store.
But suddenly, I felt mercilessly exposed and vulnerable, worse even than at the polo match or the gala. A headline like that would make a laughingstock out of everyone involved. A giant game of one of these things does not belong. And worst of all, it would be true.
A clock somewhere in the suite chimed the hour, and I felt a bubble of frantic laughter erupt from my chest. Midnight’s come, Cinderella. Isn’t it time you were going home?
I shoved the unopened can toward Noelle, and she took it in surprise. “Sorry, I… I just remembered I needed to do… a thing.”
“But… don’t you want to wait…?” Noelle called to my back.
I ignored her.
I hightailed it out of the suite, and instead of taking the elevator to the lobby, where the press had been camped out, I pushed open the heavy door to the stairs and clattered down them, breath heaving like something might catch me and drag me back.
I should be used to disappointment. I was used to it.
Let the boy do his thing in New York, Muriel, if he’s bound and determined. It’s never gonna go anywhere. He’ll be back home with us soon enough.
Whoa! No kissing. This was just a handjob. I’m not gay, Prince. There’s no future here.
Dear Mr. Prince, Thank you for your interest in Sterling Chase. While we commend you on the thoroughness of your research, we do not feel that your “Project Daisy Chain” merits further development by our company at this time. Sincerely, Austin Purcell.
But this disappointment was worse than anything that had come before because despite my best efforts, sometime in the night, I’d allowed a tiny germ of hope to set down roots in my heart that, just this one time, things would work out. That finding a way to keep Bash in my life would be as easy as falling for him had been.
“Rowe Prince,” I whispered to myself angrily, blinking away hot tears. “Of all the ridiculous things you’ve done this weekend, this might be the worst.”
I got caught up.
A-fucking-gain.
When I ran out of stairs to descend, I leaned against the wall in the stairwell and took stock of the situation.
I was a mess. Two days of lies and impersonations, heartfelt confessions, brain-melting longing, heart-pounding sex, zero actual sleep, and way too many feelings had left me completely empty. Stick a fork in me, I’m done, as Daisy used to say.