Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
“I’ll get out of your hair. I think I’m going to try and catch up on the sleep I didn’t get.” That was as close to a salacious remark as I could summon at the moment, but I had to give them something.
In my room, I grabbed my laptop off my nightstand. I opened Chrome and paused, my fingers hovering over the keys.
I’m really not a fan of the whole “Google your romantic interest” trend that has become so commonplace, but I wanted answers about the situation. Granted, I wasn’t about to find results for, “Does Neil Elwood get along with his daughter and if so, why would she want to tank my job?” but I hated feeling so damned impotent and in the dark.
Fuck it.
I typed “Neil Elwood” in the browser’s address bar, and braced myself for results.
Can I just say how weird it is to be dating someone who has a Wikipedia page devoted to him? I clicked the link and looked over my shoulder, like someone was going to be standing there, waiting to catch me. I read the bold top line, and my guts churned. Neil Charles Leif Elwood, MBE (born 24 March 1964). Okay. He’s a fucking knight apparently. That’s heavy.
I almost covered my eyes as I scrolled through the intro paragraph. Businessman, I knew. Philanthropist, what? Land mine victim charity, what? This was the guy who was spanking my ass raw on the reg?
The gist of things seemed to be that I was in way over my head. My eyes scanned the section about his early life— Born to Rose (nee Arden) and Leif Elwood, youngest of four children, lived in London until he was seven, family moved to his father’s native Reykjavik— you know, all of the stuff you do when you’re not the child of a poor single mom from Michigan. I dropped my head to my hands.
To the right of the page, beneath a picture that looked more like the man I’d met in the airport than the way he looked now, was a bar with background facts. And I nearly choked when I saw that under “partners” it listed Valerie Stern (1984 − 1988) above Elizabeth Walton-Elwood (2007 – 2012)
Stern? As in... Elwood & Stern? Another check of the dates made my stomach churn. Was his business partner Emma’s mother?
That was it. Obsessive, stalkery Googling took over the rest of my day. I learned that Neil had first worked for the British arm of his now deceased father’s media corporation before breaking out on his own to work for... Richard Branson. And oh, look, there was a photo of Neil and Richard Branson, at some black tie event in the 90’s. Standing next to Paul McCartney. I also learned that Neil was the tenth richest Brit, owing to his shares in his father’s media and property management companies in Iceland. His estimated net worth was 6.5 billion British pounds.
And I had argued with him over paying for room service.
I shut my laptop and set it gently aside, as if it were some highly unstable compound.
There was a knock at my door, and Holli called, “You can stop hiding in there out of politeness, she’s gone.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” I told her as I opened the door. “I was giving you some space. I thought you weren’t going to see her again.”
“I was undecided.” Holli followed me to the bed and sat on the edge while I flopped across it sideways.
Staring up at the crack in the plaster above my bed, I set my billionaire problem aside for a moment. “Are you any closer to a decision on her?”
Holli considered, scooting back and pulling her legs up criss-cross. “I like her. I’ll definitely see her again. But let’s not go picking out toasters to put on the registry.”
I grinned and teased, “Holli and Deja sittin’ in a tree...”
“What about you? Two consecutive nights. You never stay the night. And getting caught by his daughter!” Her jaw dropped. “Please tell me she did not walk in—”
“No! But it was bad enough. She heard everything. She totally hates me now.” I gestured guiltily to my laptop. “Then I come home and find out, oh, Neil is not only like, a billionaire with his own company, but yeah, he’s a knight and he hangs out with a Beatle every now and then.”
“Yikes. But... according to Deja, you should be in there with him.” Holli bit her thumbnail. “I didn’t tell her, by the way. She brought it up on her own.”
“What do you mean ‘in there?’” I snorted. “We’ve had sex, I’ve already closed that deal.”
“I... don’t think it’s just sex for him, Soph. Deja said that he asked about you several times while he was in England. Always trying to see how you were doing in the new job and stuff, making it sound like he cared about you as an employee, but still. She thinks the dude is in love with you.”