Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Brad Black will no longer be on my radar. Allison is welcome to him.
I spread the catalogs out on the table and open my laptop, pulling up my spreadsheet and clicking my pen as I scroll through sites I’ve bookmarked to show Rose and make a note of the stores to visit. This project is a lifesaver. Something to do that doesn’t involve being at the club. Or thinking about—
I shake my head and start making notes in my journal, chewing the end of my pen, screenshotting endless images of sun loungers, design ideas, and lighting. This place is going to look incredible.
Someone enters the kitchen, and I lift my face from the screen of my laptop, smiling, ready to greet whoever it is.
My smile drops.
And so do my eyes to my laptop. What the hell is he doing back here? “Morning.” I force the word, clicking my way across the screen.
“Morning,” he grunts.
The only sound in the room is me tapping at the mousepad on my laptop. The atmosphere is heavy. Horrible. For God’s sake. I close my eyes briefly, swallow, take a breath, and face him. “Allison seemed lovely.”
Brad blinks a few times before his brow furrows just a fraction. I hate that he expects a hissy fit from me. A reaction. But I’m at a point I can actually control my urge to smash his stupid face in or give him a piece of my mind. Yesterday at the boatyard was traumatic, and for the first time, Brad Black scared me. Not his anger, or what he’s capable of. The twinge of need inside scared me. I should never have let him kiss me. Although he was determined. Strong. Angry. There was no avoiding it. Whatever, I definitely shouldn’t have told him I didn’t use him.
“Yeah,” he finally murmurs. “Really lovely.”
We stare at each other, as I click the pen, feeling awkward, smiling a little, throwing off friendly vibes. “Was there something else?” I ask his static, unmoving form.
His frown deepens. “No, nothing.”
“Do you mind if I continue?” I ask, pointing at my screen. “I wouldn’t want you to think I was being rude.”
Poor man looks absolutely flummoxed as he glances between me and the laptop. “Sure.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “What are you doing?”
He wants to chitchat? “Researching for the beach club.” I turn my attention onto the website showing me endless luxury sunbeds, my hair falling across my face, forcing me to tuck it behind my ear on one side.
He snorts. “Right. Because you work for Rose now, not me.”
My shoulders drop, my eyes lifting but not my head. He’s lost his confusion and has found irritation. He’s goading me. Wants a reaction. “It’s for the best.”
“Agreed.” He walks past me, sneering as he does. Another attempt to get a reaction from me. I breathe deeply, telling myself repeatedly that no matter what he does, I will not rise to it. Fucking child. I hear the clang of coffee cups behind me, feeling really fucking vulnerable when I can’t see him. My shoulders roll back, my head tilting from side to side, the pressure inside growing, more so when a waft of his cologne finds me. I try to cut off my sense of smell, holding my breath. Then I still. Gulp. I feel his breath move in on my ear, and I close my eyes, trying to discreetly inhale. “If you ever,” he whispers on an angry hiss, “flaunt your naked body in public again, I will—”
“What, Brad?” I turn my head so we’re nose to nose. “What will you do?” I ask quietly, scanning his angry eyes. “Smack my bottom? Put me on the naughty step? Or ground me?”
He inhales, his lip curling, and pushes himself up. I return his filthy look, but my phone ringing relieves Brad of my distain. I pick it up, my thumb about to hit the green icon. But I falter. A withheld number.
My blood runs cold, my body solidifying, while Brad remains looming over me, heaving. I reach for the lid of my laptop and snap it shut, gathering my things and standing, forcing Brad back a few steps. I don’t look at him. “Have a lovely day,” I say quietly, escaping.
I leave the house by the side door and as soon as I’m around the corner and out of sight, I jog through the gardens, Barbie and Cindy finding me, yapping and jumping, thinking I’m about to play.
I pass the pool and dip, collecting a rock, then look over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone. Once I reach the summer house, I put my things on a bench and place my phone on the ground.
Then smash it to smithereens, lifting and ploughing the rock into it over and over, suppressing my yells. By the time I’m done, I’m exhausted. I fall onto my arse and welcome Cindy and Barbie close, hiding my face between their heads, scratching their ears. Letting a few stressed tears escape. I rootle through my bag and pull out my cigarettes, lighting up and dragging in nicotine urgently.