Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“You forgot beautiful.”
“Huh?”
“You said you ‘can’t be smart, rich, and a clean eater, too.’ I’m telling you that you missed out beautiful.”
She blinked at me. “Okay, fine. I can’t be smart, rich, damn beautiful, and a clean eater. Nobody is that perfect.”
I grinned at her taking my words and going to the next level. Nobody could accuse her of lacking confidence, that’s for sure. “You’re right, nobody is that perfect. And I guess there are worse things a woman could be.”
“Like sarcastic, a bitch, snarky, independent…”
“Did you finish listing your good qualities, so you moved to your bad ones?”
“You think those are my bad qualities? Oh, boy, you’re in for a shock if you’re still annoying me when the Great White stops by.”
I stilled. “One: no, not at all. I happen to like those qualities on you. You wear them well.”
“Thank you.”
“Second: what the hell are you talking about?”
“The Great White. The shark. Shark week. You know, the five days every month I’m guaranteed to hinge upon clinically insane, cry at pet food commercials, and eat my body weight in carbs and candy?”
“That was more than I ever needed to know about a woman’s menstrual cycle.”
“I can get more detailed if you’d like.”
“Please don’t. I don’t like.”
She grinned. Crazily. Her eyes even fucking crinkled, lighting up with barely restrained laughter that had her shoulders lightly shaking. She looked soft and innocent and playful—all the things I’d never seen before, all the things she kept hidden beneath that icy, independent exterior she portrayed to the world.
And fuck if I didn’t like this side of her.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and dropping her smile.
“Is it more about periods?”
“No.” More restrained laughter.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”
I shook my head, resting my beer in my lap.
“Why not?” She blinked at me earnestly, leaning forward on her table. Her chin was now propped up on her hand, and she tapped her fingertips against her cheek.
Tilting my head to the side, I weighed up my two answers. The arrogant one that said I had people to do it for me, or the second one—the honest one.
“I don’t really run the clubs,” I said, my mouth choosing the answer for me. “My dad still stops in and does a lot of that. I’m more the mind behind it all now. I keep it running smoothly. I guess I’m the oil for the cogs of the business. Without me, the entire thing would collapse.”
Lines appeared on her forehead as she pulled her brows together. “So when you say you’re up until stupid times in the morning…”
“Nope.”
“And the sleeping in all morning thing? Wait, that can’t be true. You were at my house stupidly early today.”
“Yesterday. It’s after midnight.” My lips pulled to the side as I deflected. She didn’t need to know about yesterday. Not yet. Not ever. “It’s a lie. I wake up early, work out, and go straight to work. I say nobody can call me until one because then I’m not interrupted when I’m busy and I can get a ton more done.”
Her jaw dropped. As much as it could, encased in her palm. “That’s a brilliant idea.”
“I’m not just a handsome face and huge cock, you know.”
“Clearly. You’re modest, too.”
“At least I can eat without covering myself in my dinner.”
“Damien?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
***
I opened my eyes to darkness.
The room was lit up only by the light glare from the clock on my nightstand. Most of it was swallowed by the wall it faced, so I rolled over and reached out toward it.
Five a.m.
I’d barely slept for four hours, yet I felt wide awake. Dahlia’s breathing was soft and shallow beside me, and a glance over my shoulder told me she was still asleep. My bladder screamed at me, so I carefully slid out of the bed, tugging at the waistband of my boxers, and headed across the room to my bathroom. So I didn’t wake her with the light, I waited until I’d closed the door behind me before flicking the switch.
I blinked to adjust my eyes and walked over to the sink. My reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall above it showed tired eyes still full of sleep, imprints from my pillowcase on my cheek, and a scar by my eye that seemed too white. It was too bright in the harsh light, and I gripped the edge of the counter and dropped my head forward so I wasn’t looking at it anymore.
My eyes fluttered shut. I needed a vacation, but I wasn’t sure there was a way to vacation from the heartbreak of your past. It was the kind of thing that followed you no matter where you went or what you did. I knew. I was an expert. Mine had followed me for years.