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)
“And what would that be?” The deep timbre of his voice has my insides growing warm. Not a good thing when I’m supposed to hate this man. At least there is a chance he might fall for my act since I’m so obviously affected by him.
“Relaxation, of course.” I wish.
My life right now is anything but relaxing. It takes everything in me not to allow myself to shake like a leaf blowing in the wind as I try to manipulate this man into giving me the ammunition to help my father take him down.
“And you’re all alone …”
I allow my lip to tip up into a playful smile. “What makes you think that?”
“The fact that you aren’t here with anyone,” he deadpans dryly.
“I’m in the Bahamas with friends.” Lie. My voice stays leveled. Hopefully, I don’t give myself away.
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
“You could have brought your magical friends over.”
I did, and his name is George. “They had other plans.” The inside of my chest feels like it will burst from the deception, but I keep my breathing steady and throw myself into the mission.
“And you didn’t want to join them instead? I’m flattered.”
Snake. The longer we talk about this, the better the chance I give myself away. Time to up the sexy.
“You should be.” I bite my lip. “Turning you down was hard to do.”
To that, he gives me a large smile, gleaming white teeth and all.
“Their loss is my gain.” He lifts his drink to his mouth and takes a sip, all while watching me. Or appraising me is more like it. By the way his blue eyes trail over my body, I feel naked, and the worst part, I like the way he looks at me. It makes my stomach churn, that even though I know he’s at war with my father, I can find him attractive. What kind of person does it make me? “Tell me about yourself.” The deep baritone of his voice pulls me from my inner ramblings. Lifting my glass to my mouth, I use the time it takes me to take a sip to calm my racing heart before I can answer.
“I just graduated.” I once heard if you are going to lie to keep it as close to the truth as you can, so that’s what I do. I allow myself another taste of the crisp and refreshing champagne and let the bubbles loosen my tongue.
His eyes never leave me. Instead, he stares at me like the words leaving my mouth are the most interesting things ever said. “What did you get a degree in?”
“History.”
My answer makes his eyes taper. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
“I never met a history major. Now that you’re done, what do you plan to do with it?”
His comment is hard to believe, seeing as it’s a very popular subject to study, but I don’t let on my thoughts on the matter.
“Isn’t that the age-old question? Probably nothing, I guess. Maybe become a historian,” I answer truthfully, or at least my truth before my father called me back. Funny how one phone call can change your life. A part of me always wanted to talk to my father about the business he was in, but I never had the guts until that fateful day in the office. It seems like forever ago, but it’s only been a week. Before that I chose to be ignorant, my life was simple, and now … Now it’s anything but, as I stand here, batting my eyelashes at a man dangerous enough that I should be scared, but instead, I’m wondering if my plan is working.
“I’d like to see that.” His blue eyes sparkle with mischief.
“What do you mean?”
“You. Behind a desk.” He parts his lips, and his mouth spreads into a smile, but not just any smile. No, this one is deadly. This smile could suck all the oxygen in the room. Good thing we are outside. “Maybe a pair of glasses.”
“I said historian, not librarian. And you? What is it that you do?” I step closer to him, feigning interest.
“Import and exports,” he answers with a straight face.
Not a lie, but not necessarily the truth. It seems Alaric Prince follows the same rules as I do when it comes to false truths.
“What do you import?”
He shrugs at my question, his gaze leaving mine, and looking across the deck.
“A little of this. A little of that.”
“And export?”
“Same.”
“A man of many words.” He doesn’t answer that with a sarcastic rebuttal, and I wonder if I took it too far. Did I ruin my chances? Blood pounds in my ears at the thought of failing my father. I owe him everything, and I might have lost the game before it even started. But then Alaric lifts his hand and gestures to the small crowd starting to form.