Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I’m a big girl. I can be professional, and I can do this.
I smoothed the black blazer I wore over the coffee brown silk shirt, resisting the need to check my hair. As usual, when I was trying to look like a grown up, I had my mass of hair pulled back into a tight, high bun and wore more makeup than usual. For a moment, I considered grabbing my briefcase. It was like a safety blanket for me, a visible icon that said I was a serious businesswoman, but thought it might be overkill for this situation. I was simply going to ask Mr. and Mrs. Roja to please make sure their offspring showed up to his tutoring sessions…otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to afford my books next semester.
Well, I probably shouldn’t mention my tale of financial woe to people with a three-story mansion, but I was out of options.
Wide, grey and white marble steps led up to the dark maroon painted front door of the house. Beautiful cut glass inserts flanked the entrance on either side, and potted flowers added a touch of color.
I pressed the button for the doorbell, mentally berating myself for the crappy condition of my nails with half the pink polish worn off.
When no one answered, I rang again, wondering if anyone was home, or if it just took twenty minutes to walk from one end of the massive place to the other.
I was just getting ready to ring a third time when the door opened with a rush. My breath caught as I took in the man standing before me. Probably in his late twenties, I swear he was the sexiest and most dangerous man I’d ever seen, but the sneer curving his beautiful, full lips wasn’t exactly welcoming.
When I glanced up, I caught a glimpse of his eyes—gorgeous dark brown, flecked with amber and green, highlighted by his cinnamon brown skin. He studied me with a cold detachment that made me want to shrink into myself, those intense eyes framed by wide cheekbones and well-arched brows. His dark black hair, long enough that it swept over his forehead, almost covered his eyes as he cocked his head to examine me. I allowed myself a quick darting look down his body, taking in the wide shoulders hidden behind his black, button up shirt, the thick chest, and powerful arms all tapering down to a trim waist. His black dress slacks fit him perfectly and, as he leaned against the doorframe with a bored expression, his gold watch flashed in the sunlight. A hint of a tattoo on the side of his neck peeked through, and I could see the shadowy suggestion of more ink on his wrists that trailed down to the back of his left hand in the form of a stylized climbing rose vine.
Across his square jaw, he had a thick, dark shadow that only grown men got when they haven’t shaved in a few days.
Damn, he was sexy, dangerous catnip to any woman with a single working hormone in her body.
Then he totally ruined my pervy fantasy by opening his mouth. “What do you want?”
His lightly accented, harsh tone and arrogant, disgusted expression snapped me out of my admiration. “I need to speak with Jacob, please.”
“He’s busy. You can talk to me.”
I gritted my teeth but forced my hands to remain relaxed at my sides. “Fine then, Mr.…?”
“My name is none of your fucking business.”
I jerked back. “Excuse me?”
He gestured to the drive behind me, his gold watch reflecting the light. “Look, bitch, whatever you’re selling out of your piece of shit car, we ain’t buying.”
“What? No, I’m here about Jacob. I’m not selling anything. He owes me money.”
His pretty upper lip curled in obvious distaste as he scanned me up and down, his eyes lingering on my breasts for a little too long before he sneered. “Let me guess, he knocked you up? You need money for an abortion?”
“I—pardon me?”
His Latin accent thickened as he crossed his muscled forearms over his broad chest, the gold and diamond watch on his wrist catching my attention again with its sparkles. “Whatever bullshit you had in mind coming here, you can forget it now. He’s never gonna be your baby daddy, so I don’t know what strip club or escort service—”
“Escort service! Did you just call me a whore?”
“I see how you’re eyeing my watch, trying to figure out how much money you can get from it. But you can forget that shit, because I would never touch a puta like you.”
My hands clenched down painfully into fists and I took a step forward, crowding him in the doorway and catching a hint of alcohol on his breath. Great, I get to deal with a drunk asshole. Why me? Seriously, what did I do to piss off karma to deserve this?