Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Then I’ll have the steak,” he said without taking his eyes off me.
“Very well,” the waiter said and left.
“You play the part of a pain in the ass girlfriend to the tee.” He kept grinning; his sexy little smile should be illegal.
“Well, I have to make sure you get your money’s worth,” I said low enough so only he could hear. He laughed low into his chest. I'm not going to lie; I laughed too. But I stopped, quickly realizing I was sitting there with Lucifer. I sat there upset at how I let my guard down and laughed with him. I was even more upset when I realized it felt good to laugh, even if it was with Daimon. I hardly spoke to him until the waiter came back with our order.
“So tell me, Addie, how exactly did you wind up working in that diner? Rumor had it you were awarded a full scholarship to Yale,” he said while cutting into his steak, but I said nothing as I nervously picked at my food. “Come on, tell me. How did the all-smarty-pants-Addie end up being you?” he asked flatly, annoyed with my silence.
“Shit happens,” I shrugged. “You? How did the pain-in-the-ass-failing-student get to be a big wig with his very own skyscraper?” I asked in an attempt to deflect his questions. I looked up from my barely touched food to see Daimon still hadn’t eaten his first bite. He sighed, shook his head and picked up his fork.
“Well, like all who graduated from our school, except for one, I went to university and actually did something with my life.” His snide remark was like a small razor, making a tiny slit on my heart.
“It’s certainly good to know money gets you the connections to get anything you want,” I said bitterly, taking my first bite of my fish. I shoved a forkful of food in my mouth only because I was afraid I’d snap at him and tell him to fuck off.
“Money doesn’t buy you everything; but, fuck, it does make your life easier. It’s just too bad you don’t know that,” he fired back.
“You’re right, I don’t. I, at least, have a family who loves me and doesn’t pressure me to marry some stuck up bitch for mergers and acquisition deals,” I smirked. He took a bite of his steak and chewed it angrily. I continued, knowing I was getting to him. “Thereby, having to pay someone to act like their girlfriend. What is it Daimon? Couldn’t get your own girl? One you didn’t have to pay for?” I attacked back. The fucker hurt me and I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. He dropped his fork and glared at me.
“Daimon? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?” A shrieking voice came from across the restaurant. A platinum blonde came running at us full speed. Everything on her was fake, and I mean everything. It was as if she was a Lee Presson girl. I looked at the girl who stood in front of us with her excessive make up and overpowering perfume.
“Having lunch, Clara. You?” Oh my God, so this is how Clara turned out. The moment I realized it was her, my mind drifted off to one of the numerous times she bullied me.
“Why can't you stay the hell away from him?” Clara was always dressed perfectly with her perfect hair and perfect makeup. Her uniform skirt was always shorter than the rest. She wore a white button down and a cardigan sweater. Her two other friends had cornered me in the bathroom while another waited outside to make sure no one entered. Clara walked over to me and glared. “You know you’re the ugliest thing I've ever seen,” she said in disgust. “I don't know what he sees in you. I don't want to see you anywhere near him.” She grabbed at my hair, but I grabbed at her arm and held on tightly. “You bitch, that hurt!” she hissed. Her friends grabbed my arms and forced them by my side as she pulled my hair, wanting to hurt me. I stayed silent, waiting until they were done. It wasn't the first time I was bullied by her, or by others for that matter.
“Ah, the same, silly.” She waved her hand at him. My presence was ignored like I was the ‘other woman’ who the rich people don’t talk about.
“So when are we going to see you in the Hamptons?” she asked, smiling and batting her eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said to her, but then turned to me. “Addie? What do you want? Do you want to go to the Hamptons?” he asked. Daimon’s 180 appeared again. Clara turned and narrowed her eyes, disgusted I was there in front of her.
“Aren’t you the poor girl from high school?” she said repulsed.