Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Two sarcastic frowns are thrown my direction.
“What?! I do! I didn’t fall in love with him because of his money. I fell in love with him because of who he is and how he treats me. You know, draping his jacket over my shoulders whenever there’s a faint breeze and wiping away pasta sauce off my cheek and listening to me ramble about the subtle difference in paint shades…And then there’s the way he gets a little goofy in my presence. Laughs a little louder than he would in mixed company or attempts a silly face to lighten an intense conversation like we’re kids at the dinner table rather than stressed out adults…” Realizing how attached I am to the man I have no business being attached to has me clearing my throat to push the conversation along faster. “Anyway, we’ve been given free reign. There’s absolutely no budget.”
“God, those are probably the sexiest words I’ve ever heard in my entire career,” Gina gushes while dramatically fanning herself.
“I fucking second that,” Margaret snickers in excitement.
One side of my mouth tips upward in amusement. “Alright, ladies. Let’s get to work.”
***
Sea salt-filled air flutters into the living room through the open windows for me to enjoy in between my random Tina Turner song breaks. The sun breeched the ocean a while back, and the home I’m standing in is so high-tech that the lights are programmed to naturally adjust themselves for early evening.
I finish repositioning a baby blue vase on an accent table near the couch at the same time “Proud Mary” comes to a close. Second guessing myself, I slide the object back to the opposite side of the other end of the furniture and admire how it settles amongst the additional statement pieces. Still unsure, I push it back to the original location, cringing in uncertainty that it belongs here at all.
The unexpected footsteps coming my direction have me calling out to my assistant, “Margaret is that you? I thought you and Gina went to happy hour.” Adjusting the vase once more, I mindlessly mutter, “You two didn’t come back to drag me there, did you? I told you. I’ll go next time. I gotta finish this up and meet my husband for dinner.”
“I like that you respect our time together.”
Nero’s delicious and unexpected voice has me spinning around so fast I nearly knock over the item I was fidgeting with. I immediately take in how incredible he looks with his freshly cut dark hair, dazzling dark eyes that seem to glow in the evening light, and Milan runway attire of a gray peacoat, black slacks that fit firmly against his muscular legs, and black chukka boots to match. The man exudes style and class and sex appeal without even trying.
It’s enough to steal my breath.
Make me weak in the knees.
Drool over him like he’s my real husband instead of my fake one.
“I do not like that you think it’s okay to go to happy hour.”
Taken back a bit by the comment, I jab, “You don’t think it’s okay for me to spend time with my friends and co-workers?”
“I don’t think you should be going someplace where women dangle themselves like cheap bait for the sharks that circle those establishments.”
His words and tone tighten my frame.
“You want time with your friends? Bring them to our home. Drink on the patio. Party in the parlor. Enjoy the pool or the hot tub or the private section of the beach. Do not needlessly endanger an innocent man’s life for coming onto my wife because he mistook her presence among her single friends as an invitation to insert himself into a position not intended for him.”
The possession in his speech is too intoxicating to resist.
No one has ever been so protective of me.
No one has even tried.
“Am I making myself clear, Elle?”
I’m barely able to muster up more than a nod.
“Good.” His curt nod is followed by him shoving his hands into his pocket. “Now, ask me why I’m displeased.”
“There’s more?!”
“Yes.”
I adjust the lapel to my black dress in nervousness and look around the area we’re occupying in search of the answer. My first guess is at the nearby canvas photos I knew were a huge risk. “Too avant-garde?”
His eyes don’t deter from mine. “No.”
“I should’ve asked before removing the chandelier in the dining room?” I point that direction prior to wincing at my audacity. “It was just that it was too industrial contemporary. It was a better design for an artsy loft or a studio apartment not somewhere with such a soft pallet. There are a few more major changes like that in my design that I’m doing to make sure that they tie together better with what I think will help this place sell, but if you want me to get your approval first, which now that I say it out loud I probably should’ve for that chandelier, that’s absolutely fine! I respect that. I can correct that mistake. I’ll show you the designs in my sketchbook or if you want the 3-D model, I can pull it up on my tablet during dinner to show you. I swear, what I have in mind will get this place sold like that.” The snap of my fingers doesn’t seem to ignite any sort of response. “I swear you’ll be singing my praises when I’m done and bragging to the whole world how amazing your wife is.”