Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
I blink at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a red silk halter dress, black leather jacket, and killer black heeled boots. I’ve pinned my hair back, and other than my red lips, I wear light makeup.
Taking a step back, I decide to add my large gold hoop earrings.
There. This has to do it. If Rhys Granger doesn’t fuck me tonight, then I’ve definitely lost my touch. We landed in Chicago last night, and I thought for sure he was going to make a move, but he seemed perfectly happy laughing and listening to me tell stories.
What the hell? I know he wants me. His eyes devour me when I enter a room. He makes sure I’m not hanging out with anyone but him, but he hasn’t touched me. He can’t still be upset with me for confronting him about Christie, his mom, can he?
Frustrating.
I tried my hand at seducing him, but Rafe interrupted us right when I started. Maybe our timing is off.
Whatever, tonight is the night. It has to be. Because I’m pretty sure my mom is on to me. The only person I still need to shoot is Rhys. Maybe that’s how I seduce him? That, and don’t mention Christie.
God, that’s absurd. It can’t be because of his mom, right? It’s almost like a control thing with him. I apply more lipstick and rub my lips together. Besides pinning a sign to my forehead with an arrow pointing to my lips saying kiss me, this is the best I can do.
Maybe I should bribe a hotel employee so that I can slip into his room and wait for him naked. Or maybe I’ll do the Pretty Woman thing and wear a tie and heels. That way he’d laugh and fuck me.
“This is it,” I tell my image. I’ve been touring almost three weeks with them, and my loan from Julianna is getting low, not to mention her constant phone calls reminding me that school starts in two weeks and that she’s fairly confident he doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend.
To add more to my plate, it’s almost Christmas, and my mom is insisting I show up at her house for at least a day or two.
Pressure. Jesus, he’s got to take the bait tonight. I’m becoming paranoid that pictures of us have been leaked and my brother is hiding, waiting to kill Rhys, which is stupid.
“Oh God,” I groan. The loud bang on my door breaks me out of my funk.
Grabbing my bag, which holds my camera and pretty much all of my life, I sling it over my shoulder and take a breath.
Let’s do this.
“Hey, Toby.” I swing my hotel door open. Toby is Rafe’s assistant. He’s a great guy with bright red hair and cute freckles. He’s around six feet and weighs maybe a hundred-and-fifty pounds, making him look like he’s still in high school. The guy is freaking skinny, and I think he’s maybe twenty-six or something, but every time we all go out, he’s the first to get carded.
Whatever, he’s great, and if he can survive Rafe, he’s got to be amazing.
“So, Granger wants you.”
My stomach flips and I clear my throat. “Fantastic.” We head toward the lobby. Toby’s easy to be around, another thing I like about him. He’s always bringing me coffee when I’m shooting the guys. He doesn’t have to, but still, I appreciate it since it’s keep up or be left behind in their world.
“Oh, come the fuck on…really, Toby?” I almost drop my bag but it has my camera, so I stop and let it hang for effect. Rafe is standing at the exit in his stupid suit messing around on his phone.
“Sorry, Gia, he wants to ride with us to the United Center.” His face turns red, so I don’t say more. It’s obvious he feels bad.
I roll my eyes and walk up to Rafe and stand there waiting. Like the arrogant ass he is, he keeps typing, ignoring us even though I’ve completely invaded his space.
“Hey, Rafe, haven’t—” He holds his finger up and I swear to God, I want to kick him with my heeled boot. I look at Toby who is busy looking at his phone, so I swing my bag back onto my shoulder and start to walk out, only for Rafe to grab me.
“The car’s over here.” He keeps hold of my arm as if I’m a hostage or something. I don’t even care. The faster I get into the car, the quicker I’ll be at the concert.
A driver jumps out. Of course, Rafe would want a limo. I don’t recognize this driver; he must be for Rafe only. He gives me a nod as I slide in.
“Wow,” I say, looking over at three women with dresses so short you can see their crotches as they sit giggling with champagne.