Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
No, not sex. Lovemaking. He hadn’t made love to a woman in fifteen years. He’d taken other women to his bed, but that had been sex. Right from the beginning, he and Ava had always made love. Then he’d lost her to one stupid mistake and a chick flick.
Why had he even made that offer, practically begging her to leave her life behind and come with him?
After his grandmother died, he’d realized he’d never get enough time with Ava, that he couldn’t keep leaving her behind. Added to the mix, it rankled that his mother had never come out to see the old lady. Or him. He never saw his brother. They’d been estranged, though he hadn’t wanted to use that word at the time.
With his grandmother’s death, it seemed as though his last link to his family had been severed too. Ava had become the only link to his past. And he’d wanted her. Craved her every moment of every day when he was away. So he’d asked. He didn’t think he’d demanded. He thought he’d merely suggested.
Even when she’d thrown that damned chick flick at him, he’d never watched it. Never tried to see the point she’d made.
He flipped on his computer, pulled up his streaming account, then he punched his intercom button.
When he heard the brief, “Yes, Ransom? What do you need?”
“Hold all my calls for two hours,” he instructed. “I’m not available to anyone.” Then he quickly added, “Except Ava Harrington.”
He was very much afraid she wouldn’t call. He was very much afraid it would be like the last time, where he waited for her to call… and waited… until he got on with his life and tried to put her behind him.
What a mistake that had been.
He should have called her. He should have flown right back from Paris and gone straight to her apartment. Though they’d always been at his place—it was almost as if she’d been living with him—she’d still had a life outside of his. Her apartment. Her job. Her classes.
Her dreams.
He searched for the movie, and when it came up, he was dumbstruck by how cheap it was. Something that cost so little to watch and yet had so devastated his life. He’d never thought about Pretty Woman. It was just a reference she’d thrown at him in a moment of high emotion.
But she’d said it again today. She’d never forgotten, not the way he had.
He didn’t just rent it, he bought it, so it would always be there to remind him.
Closing the blinds against the sun streaming across the computer, he sat in his office chair, his big-screen monitor blazing with a chick flick.
It was a cute story. The characters were funny. Especially the hotel manager. The meet-cute was pretty dang risqué for the current times. Because Vivian was a lady of the night. And Edward, for lack of a better word, was her john. Yeah, it was daring. And sexy. Yet heartwarming.
When he got to the part where Edward snapped the jewel box closed before Vivian could take the necklace, Ransom laughed out loud. He thought about going online to see if that bit had been ad-libbed or was part of the script, but he didn’t. It was charming to think it hadn’t been planned.
He watched Vivian grow under the tutelage of the hotel manager. The guy was a fairy godmother figure. Ransom found himself enjoying the movie, laughing. And feeling his heart break as Vivian’s did.
When Edward asked Vivian to be his kept woman, a lance pierced Ransom’s heart.
Even as Edward said he wasn’t treating her like a lady of the night, or even a mistress, the floodgates of understanding opened inside Ransom as Vivian told him he’d just treated her exactly like that.
Ransom saw it all. He’d been a clueless jerk. He’d been blinded by the exquisite lovemaking, by the joy he felt when they created a meal together, by the happiness that welled up from his soul when he was with Ava. Yet, all the time, he’d accommodated only himself, sweeping aside her dreams. For so long, he’d believed it was all about that—his subjugation of her dreams, his narcissistic belief that only his dreams mattered at the time, that she could always find hers later.
But holy hell, this was what she’d been talking about. He’d asked her to be his kept woman. He’d offered to create a job for her. Then he’d actually blamed her for walking out and never calling him back. For never wanting to discuss the issue. She’d deleted him from her life, and he’d wallowed in his hurt and anger, never seeking out the real reasons for it.
And all the while, the answer had been waiting for him in Vivian and Edward’s story.
He was the one who’d broken them. He’d been so busy making his bid for fame, practically shouting at the world, look at me, look at me, that he’d stuck Ava in his suitcase and closed the lid on her. He’d asked her to be nothing more than a plaything he could pull out when he wanted amazing lovemaking, or even a hike along Italy’s Blue Trail when they were traveling.