Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Maybe I misread the situation. Maybe he's not falling for it.
I stand from the table, and he looks up at me.
Please take the bait, I silently pray. Please. This is my last chance to help. To prove I can help.
“And where do you think you’re going?” His deep voice cuts through my nerves, and when he smirks, I think I might fall over from the anxious feeling coursing through me. If what I’m doing isn’t bad enough, him being this handsome makes it even harder.
I do my best to plaster on a sweet yet sexy smile.
“I’m going home,” I respond.
“Already? You just got here.” He shifts in his seat and then moves to stand. When he’s directly in front of me, I can barely breathe. He’s too close. Way too close. Then if his proximity wasn’t enough, he pushes his sleeves up, showing me his tanned and heavily tattooed arms.
Shit.
This is not okay.
This man needs to come with warning labels.
It should be illegal to be this sexy.
He’s stealing the oxygen from my lungs. Everything about him—his eyes, the way he holds my gaze—demands respect. He commands attention, and I hate the way I feel when he looks at me because I hate him for hurting the only person I love.
Why does he have to be so damn handsome? And why does he have to know it? We stare at each other, and my breath stills in my chest, wanting to come out in ragged bursts from the pounding of my heart. I will it not to and demand my heart to hold a steady beat of indifference. Being so close to the objective, I can’t falter now.
I’m too damn close to mess this up. I’ve come too far.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe, goddammit. Breathe and act like you aren’t affected by him and his larger-than-life presence.
“I have to go. Plus …” I start to say, trying desperately to set the trap. “It’s too loud in here.” I gesture around to the club and all that it entails—music, dancing, and debauchery.
He cocks his head to the left. “Come to my place.” His words are powerful. He’s not asking. He’s telling.
I shake my head. “I can’t.” I really freaking can’t because the way I’m all jumbled up, I’d forget why I’m here and end up kissing this man. My gaze dips on instinct, and I look at his full and majorly kissable lips.
Shit.
Look up, Phoenix.
His forehead. That’s a safe place to look.
I watch as his brow furrows, and I wonder if he will say more to convince me, but he shakes his head. “You misunderstand me. I wasn’t inviting you tonight.”
“Oh.” I sound like an idiot, but I’m confused. Isn’t that what he said?
“What I was going to say, had you let me, was that tomorrow I’m having a small gathering on my yacht. Come. It will be much quieter than this.” He gestures to the crowd, dancing and milling around us.
The answer is yes. This invitation is exactly my goal. I have to say yes, but I keep quiet for a minute.
Again, my heart pounds. This is my in.
But I don’t want to seem too desperate, so instead, I lower my gaze to the floor, and then I count slowly in my head.
One.
Two.
Three.
When I get to ten, I look up from the speck of imaginary dirt I was staring at. It’s too dark for me to have seen anything, but in my head, I know it was there.
“There will be people there?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
I finally meet his eyes when I ask, “What time and where?”
“Party starts at eight p.m. My yacht is docked at the pier. It’s the last one docked, and it’s called the Empire.”
I want to barf in my mouth. Of course, it is. An empire he stole.
“Interesting name.”
“You would think that,” he smarts, his smirk dangerously close to detonating my underwear. This hits too close to home. I bite the inside of my cheek until I’m sure it will bleed.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I finally say, and without waiting for him to say anything, I give one last smile and turn my back on him.
Then I’m walking out of the VIP area and the club. When I leave the building, and the warm air hits my face, it makes me feel like my skin is on fire.
I need to calm down.
I need to come up with a plan.
I walk to the street and make a quick left. As soon as I’m out of distance from the club, I fish my phone out of the pocket of my dress. Who doesn’t love a dress with pockets?
The phone rings as I walk closer and closer to my hotel.
Finally, I hear my father’s voice.
“Nix?” he answers in a low and troubled voice. He’s not happy with my plan, and from his tone, I can tell he’s nervous.