Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Just tell the truth, the voice in my brain growls. Maybe she can help you. But I clamp down on the thought. My problems started way before Lindy entered the picture, and I’m not about to drag her into them. Yet I desperately want to see her again, and a plan begins to form in my mind. Surely, there must be a way.
Suddenly, there’s another knock on my door and Pamela waltzes in unannounced.
“Yes?” I query, staring at her.
The middle-aged woman merely shrugs, totally unintimidated.
“You’re in a bad mood, Mr. Statham. Go home.”
I stare at her.
“Did anyone tell you that you should be fired for your nosy-ass ways?”
The gray-haired woman shrugs again.
“Yeah, but you won’t. Besides, I canceled all your meetings for today so you have time to get your act together. No one wants to interact with you when you’re in this state. They’re cowering behind the office furniture and purposefully running the other way when they see you coming.”
I squint at the portly woman once more.
“You know, anyone else would fire you for talking like this.”
Pam shrugs.
“It’s just the truth.”
I roll my eyes.
“Okay fine. You win. But I have an appointment I need you to schedule for me.”
Pamela furrows her brow. “Go home, Mr. Statham. Seriously. Relax. Work on getting that stick in your butt out. It’ll feel good afterwards, I promise.”
A flush rises on my throat and my eyes bulge at her impertinence, but I know my secretary’s right.
“Just do this, okay?” I grit out. “Club Z is having an event this weekend, and I want you to RSVP for me and also to request Lindy Renfrew as my hostess. Insist that she attend, otherwise I’ll terminate my membership.”
My secretary nods and spins on her heel.
“Will do, Mr. Statham,” she calls while sailing out. “If Club Z takes care of your bad mood, then they’re worth every cent you pay.”
I merely snort and scowl at my desk once more when I’m left alone in the confines of my office. What the fuck? Who needs this kind of nosy-ass busybody? But the truth is that I adore feisty women, and more importantly, I adore Lindy Renfrew’s particular brand of spice. The problem is that she needs to understand my secret, and yet I’m terrified to admit the truth even to myself.
9
Lindy
* * *
When Nicole called me a few days ago to tell me I’d been requested by Julian, I almost said no. Clearly, whatever magic we once shared is gone, and he hates my guts. The CEO literally ran from my apartment like it was a dumpster fire, and I’m not exactly excited to see him.
But Nicole insisted.
“You never know, Lindy,” she cajoled. “Men can be funny sometimes, and especially wealthy, powerful men. They need time to work through their emotions.”
I snorted.
“Trust me, this particular incident has nothing to do with emotions. It has to do with the physical realm.”
Nicole was undeterred though.
“I won’t ask what happened, but every client has challenges. Now, Mr. Statham has requested you and I think you should say yes, if just to get some closure. There are obviously some loose threads given your recalcitrance, and I think this date could help to tie those up. For you, too, and not just for him.”
As a result, I’m here now. It’s an afternoon event at Club Z, and it’s being held in their private garden which is surrounded by high stone walls on all sides, enshrouding us in privacy. In fact, it’s difficult to believe that we’re even in Manhattan right now because the setting is so lush and green. There’s a pergola at one end covered in vines, nestled beneath a copse of pine trees. Gingkoes, maples, and even oaks fill the space, along with lush blooms of rose, magnolia, and my favorite, the wisteria vine.
As usual, I’m clothed in a short, revealing yellow dress with a deep neckline and a hem that barely covers my pussy. White high heels complete the look, and of course, I’m panty-less because it’s a hot day and us girls enjoy feeling the breeze between our thighs. Plus, if Julian wants a Club Z girl, then that’s what he’ll get, and I have no regrets.
I’m playing idly on my phone at a table when a large shadow blocks the sunlight warming my shoulders. I look up, and sure enough, it’s the handsome billionaire. His black hair is styled casually, and he looks delectable in a simple work shirt and jeans. But I don’t smile. Instead, I nod my head stiffly.
“Hi. It’s nice to see you.”
Julian doesn’t seem put off by my curt greeting.
“Thank you for coming,” he growls, taking a seat at my table uninvited. Nearby, elegantly dressed diners eat and laugh, but the atmosphere between me and Julian remains stilted. How can it be so awkward when just a few days ago, we were in the throes of making passionate love?