Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“I’m not really thinking about the end. I’m still stuck on the five hours we spent together last night.”
She flushed. “It’s my job to think about and anticipate every future.”
“And how did that work with you and Josh?”
Her hand whipped out and slapped me across the face. The last time she’d done that, we’d fucked for the first time. This time was different. She was breathing hard. Her anger a living, breathing dragon threatening to rip out of her chest.
“You have no right to say anything about Josh. You are the playboy of the Upper East Side. I was literally hired to make you look like a good person. Just because I’m fooling everyone else does not mean that you can try to fool me.”
And there it was.
Right out in the open.
The same old shit. Different day.
“Have you ever seen me with another girl?” I asked her with a cold-edged fierceness. “The months you’ve been working for me, have you ever even seen me flirt with anyone else, except as a joke? Have you had to wake me up with a woman in my bed? Have I missed an appointment because I was getting pussy?”
She just clenched her jaw.
“That’s because I haven’t slept with anyone since Jane. Not anyone, except you. And before that, English,” I growled low, “I didn’t sleep with anyone else but Jane. I never cheated on her.”
She opened her mouth, but I held my hand up. I didn’t want to hear it. I was tired of hearing it from everyone else. I didn’t need it from her, too.
I stepped away from her. I picked up her discarded dress, her heels, and then finally her purse.
“So, if you’re so fucking convinced that I’m a horrible person, like your fucking husband, then take your shit,” I said, tossing the bundle of clothes into her unsuspecting hands, “and get the fuck out of my apartment.”
“Court, I…”
“I really don’t want to hear it.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
She didn’t move for a few seconds. As if she was debating on trying to reason with me anyway. But then she shuffled out of the bedroom, and a minute later, the elevator dinged.
I loosed a breath.
Fuck. Just…fuck.
Part III
Not Who I Thought
17
English
“Earth to English,” Lark said. She waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you in there?”
I jolted out of my train of thought. “Yes, sorry.”
I’d been thinking about Court kicking me out of his apartment. And how I’d been so wrong about him. So many fucking assumptions that had exploded in my face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yep. Fine. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
That was at least the truth. Ever since what happened with Court, I’d been sleeping like shit. It didn’t help that the night we’d been together was the best night of sleep I’d had in months, maybe years. I’d never been a good sleeper. My stepmom had always said that I had too much going on in my head. My brain wouldn’t shut down. Apparently, it’d only taken five hours of sex with Court Kensington to get my brain to shut up.
“You never sleep well,” Lark said. “But worse than normal?”
“Yeah. I don’t know.” I twirled my fork through my pad thai. Lunch with Lark had been postponed last week. So, I hadn’t seen her since she’d gotten back. She’d had too much work to catch up on. “I’m just glad you’re back. I can’t wait until November, when you have more time to be a human.”
Lark laughed. “Yeah. I get it. But I love campaign season. I honestly can’t even believe we’re in the middle of September. Where did the time go?”
“No idea.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do after the election is over?” Lark asked. “You won’t have to work with Court anymore. I can’t see you going back to LA.”
“No, I can’t either. Not after what happened with Josh,” I said, grinding my teeth together. “He’s been a total maniac since I did the interview.”
“I still can’t believe you did it.”
“I won’t tell him this, but it was to help the campaign. Some jackass pap took a picture of Court and me leaving the club that night, and I didn’t want it to hurt Leslie.”
Lark took a sip of her water. “I appreciate that. Though it’s a big sacrifice for a picture.”
“It was fine. The article barely said anything.”
“Enough to make Josh go crazy.”
“Well,” I muttered softly, “he doesn’t want a divorce.”
“Don’t think he gets a say in that after what he did.”
“True.” I ate a few bites of my food before speaking again, “He wants to see me when he’s in town next month. He’ll be here, promoting the last Bourne movie. He thinks we should try to go to counseling.”
Lark snorted derisively. “He thinks that counseling will fix what he did?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Lark. On one hand, I know it doesn’t fix anything. My dad is proof of that. But on the other hand…”