Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“You’re bringing a photographer with you?”
“I’m more than capable of handling a camera, love. I do own an advertising agency.”
His words may be condescending, but his tone isn’t.
And love?
Dear God, I could get used to him calling me that.
“You can work a camera? Interesting.”
“I can work a great many things,” he says, smirking, but I don’t so much as smile back.
This easy flirting with him is all well and good, but I still feel rocky, not knowing where we are. I refuse to ask him to define this new normal between us, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering.
His smile drops as he realizes I’m not taking the bait.
“Listen, Raven, about—”
“Oh, God. Please don’t.” I groan, throwing my head into my hands and not loving how this conversation is starting.
As much as I wanted this to happen, now that it’s here, I’d do just about anything to avoid it.
“Let me finish,” he says, and I slump forward in my chair. “I don’t regret a thing. A part of me feels like it was always destined to happen.”
My breath hitches as I remember my mom’s words.
Fate.
“Anyway, I don’t do relationships, and there’s a very good reason for it. The relationships I carry on are short-term, and the women always know going into it.”
My stomach sinks to my feet. Nothing is worse than getting the I don’t do relationships talk after sex.
“I recognize I didn’t offer you the same courtesy in explaining how I work, and for that, I apologize. Especially given the fact that we work together.”
My eyes shut tightly as I battle to fight off the deep embarrassment seeping in. If he notices, he doesn’t show it, moving forward with his talk.
“I don’t want things to be rocky between us.”
Obviously. Hasn’t that been the issue all along? We hook up. Things are strained here at work?
“What you’re saying is this won’t happen again, and we’ll move on and forget it. Do I have that right?” I ask evenly and without any inflection.
I don’t want him to think I’m angry because I figured it was a one-time thing.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t know what I want, Raven.”
He brushes his hands back through his hair. “I’d be a liar if I said things didn’t feel different with you.”
I scoff. “You don’t need to feed me lines for my sake, Mr. Cavendish. I’m perfectly capable of handling the truth.”
His lips purse. “I’m not giving you lines. I wouldn’t say something that I don’t mean. I’m not promising you a happily ever after. I really wouldn’t mind stopping the one-time-only rule for a bit with you.”
My heart skips a beat, and warmth spreads up my legs.
“We need to separate work from whatever this is between us,” he says, and I nod, unable to form words without squeaking. “Say something,” he commands.
I take a deep breath. “What happened here in the office, it can’t happen again,” I whisper, not wanting his nosy—albeit amazing assistant—to overhear.
“Agree.”
“We don’t put any labels on this,” I say.
“Yes. No labels.” He offers me a small smile. “We take things slow, and if they progress, they progress.”
“If they don’t, we act like adults, and we go on to knock the Diosa account out of the park,” I continue.
“Precisely,” he says.
I quickly change the subject, not wanting to have this conversation here in the office anymore.
“When do you leave for Italy?”
“As soon as I can arrange my flight. But I’ll be leaving soon. A one-week whirlwind in the three cities you provided as the best locations to showcase the athletic wear and the designer look at the same time. You are brilliant, do you know that?”
He looks at me with such sincerity. It’s difficult to see myself that way sometimes. To know someone who wants to kiss me also thinks I’m intelligent has my heart swelling. Quietly I say, “I appreciate your words.”
“Of course. I mean it. Shelby will send over the full itinerary based on your locations, so you’ll know how to reach me if you need to.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cavendish.”
He pulls his top lip into his mouth, trying to hold off a laugh.
“Behind closed doors, I’d prefer you call me Charles.”
“Not Charlie,” I ask, grinning.
“I bloody hate that name. Shelby knows it. It’s her power play, and I need her on my team, so I allow it.”
“Charles, it is.” I smile, standing to head back to my office to check on Reagan.
He stands and walks around the desk, walking with me toward the door.
My hands are on the doorknob when his arm darts out, catching my free hand, turning me around, and tugging me into his firm chest. I yelp at the move, and he smothers the noise with his mouth.
The kiss is short, being as though we’re in the office and Shelby is just behind the door.