Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Suddenly his gaze snaps to me and I can’t look away.
Oof.
He’s so intense under that layer of superficial playboy charm, and I wonder why.
“Are you, Miss Clarendon?” he rasps.
“Am I what?” I ask dumbly, which gets me a lazy, warm smile.
“Settling in. Or are we overwhelming you with our small-town affections?”
“Only a little,” I joke, trying not to flush, but I don’t have much control over my capillaries.
I can’t help being embarrassed that things just aren’t clicking for me right now.
There’s too much going on at once and it’s throwing me off-kilter.
“But I’m settling in fine, thank you,” I say.
“Just out shopping then?” He glances at the store window we’ve all stopped in front of. “That’s a lovely piece. Planning to buy it for your classroom or for home?”
“Neither! Unless, um, you’re planning to give me a giant raise before I even start,” I say wryly.
He grins. “I’m afraid that’s not on the books yet, but perhaps we could discuss it over coffee.”
“Oh, I—no, Ulysses, I couldn’t possibly ask that. Plus, I’m out with Nora and—”
“And Nora needs to go home and pull her sons out of the mud pit they started in the backyard this morning,” Nora replies warmly. “So we won’t be out much longer. She’s all yours, Ulysses.”
I flash her a dirty look.
She just grins, knowing I’m outmaneuvered again.
I hold in a groan.
“Fiiine,” I say. “Let me just get my bags in the car.”
“Of course,” Ulysses says, offering his arm. “Here, let me carry that for you. You too, Nora.”
It’s easier to let him than to argue at this point. He’s so persistent, and we both end up transferring half our bags to Ulysses.
Rich boy or not, the man holds his own with heavy things. I noticed it when he helped with the moving. Now he carries them like they don’t weigh a thing.
But as we turn to lead him to where we parked our cars, I can’t help glancing back where the Jacobins were standing.
They’re gone.
The sidewalk totally empty.
Nothing but an eerie memory like they were never there at all.
By the time I’m settled in at the café with Ulysses, I’m wishing I could pull the same kind of disappearing act.
He’s not bad company.
He’s handsome and overly flirty, sure, but he’s not too pushy and doesn’t keep pressing when I deflect. Mostly, he keeps asking me about work.
If the starting stipend was enough for school supplies, if I’ve started meeting any of the parents and kids yet, if I’ve had any trouble with the principal over lesson plans.
He tells me his parents, who he calls the Iron King and Iron Queen, personally review the lesson plans every year to ensure what’s being taught 'fits the spirit of Redhaven.' Whatever that means.
All it tells me is they’re control freaks, and I’d better get used to them having their thumbs in all my pies.
“Are they that controlling with you, too?” I ask, taking a sip of my latte frappe. “And your brothers? I heard you had brothers.”
Ulysses lifts both blond brows. He’s never looked away from me once, his piercing green stare unblinking, and now it sharpens with interest. “Have you been asking around about me, Miss Clarendon?”
“Not exactly, but you’re all anyone wants to talk about,” I retort with a smirk. “Seems like your family are pretty much the town celebrities.”
“Only because we cultivate that image very carefully. It’s easy to be famous when you’re the only game in town.” He winks. “To answer your questions, when I was home, they were very particular about bringing me up with Arrendell family values. Being shipped off to boarding school was almost a relief. Now, though, they mostly leave me to my wicked ways as long as I do my administrative duties. I’m not an elected official, of course, but...” He pauses and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “They delegate.”
“Do they?” I can’t help being amused. “I’ve heard some rumors about those wicked ways, and that your parents weren’t always such sticklers. Wild parties with supermodels? Is it true?”
He snorts. “My reputation does precede me.” His eyes darken, though, and his smile is almost sad. “I hope you don’t believe all that bullshit. I’m not so awful. With money comes the obligation to entertain other wealthy people, but I’m not the bodice-ripping playboy everyone imagines.”
He watches me giggle.
If only he knew I’m a fan of those books.
“Most of those so-called ‘parties’ are actually courting other folks for contributions to philanthropic causes. World hunger, poverty, that sort of thing. It’s rather sad, really, that one must bribe so many egos in order for them to give a damn,” he continues.
He has a point.
There’s something pensive in his eyes that seems more human than his flirting that smacks of desperation to be liked. Maybe that’s what’s behind that look.
Ulysses Arrendell has one face he shows the world—playboy son of a powerful family—but underneath it, he just wants to be liked for himself.