Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
14
WHIT
“Well, that seemed to go well.”
I give Heather no more than a cursory glance as she places her glass down before taking the seat Mimi recently vacated. “You think?”
“Sarcasm, Leif. I know you live your life on a different cosmic plain to the rest of us up there on billionaire row, but you remember sarcasm, don’t you?” When I don’t answer, she adds, “I would hate to think you’d dragged me out to watch you sit and wallow after Mimi served you a slice of angry scowl and pointed finger.”
“I’m not wallowing.” I’m watching, staring at Mimi on the floor below. Her arms rest on the railing running around the dance floor, her body bent forward to reveal a slash in the fabric of her dress. She’s not flashing a lot of skin, yet my gut twists with the desire to slide my fingers there. To press my hands to the sinuous curve of her hips, to feel the softness of skin not ordinarily revealed. No, I’m not wallowing. I don’t actually know what the fuck I’m doing.
“Looks like wallowing to me.”
“I’m observing.”
“Well, observe how I’ve occupied our manwhore of a brother, leaving the path wide open for someone else. Someone else, say, like you, she says with a careless flutter of her fingers.
“That’s not why I brought you here.”
“Isn’t it? Come on, Leif. I know you didn’t ask me to come with you tonight because you were worried about our brother defiling your PA, sacred soul that she is, disrupting your office Zen. You asked me to come along because you have feelings for Mimi yourself.”
“I didn’t say that, either. I thought you went for drinks?”
She reaches for her glass. “Your drink will be along when El has stopped flirting with the server. And you didn’t need to say. I do have eyes in my head. They work perfectly fine, you know.”
“I might be worse than El. Worse for her, at least.”
“If you are, you hide it well. For a start, you don’t kiss and broadcast it. You’re not delusional, either. You don’t bang on about how you’re God’s gift to women.”
“El’s okay. He’s just young.”
“He’s not that young,” she replies with a snort. “And he’s older than me.”
“Yes, but you and me were born with old heads on our shoulders.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is sensible. Well, I’m sensible. You’re a bit more reckless, but I think that comes with the penis-owning thing.”
“I’m not reckless.” Just ask Mimi, I almost say. If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting here, watching the sharks circle as she hovers at the edge of the dance floor downstairs. Neither of us would be here. We’d be in my bed, and I’d have my head glued between her legs.
“No, you’re right. You’re not reckless. You take calculated risks, I think. You work the numbers. You like to know what’s at the end of a play.”
Something in Heather’s assumption tugs at my attention, her words morphing into Mimi’s.
It was the most sensual moment of my life.
I want the full experience.
I’m only here for six months.
The last isn’t a thread that tugs but yanks forcibly. I promised my best friend I’d make sure she wouldn’t end up with a man like me. And she won’t. Not if she’s only here for six months. I can protect her, can’t I? Ensure she’s not trawling bars and nightclubs, picking up the wrong kind of man. I could make it so she has the best experience with none of the upset.
“Can I go home now?” Heather asks, draining her glass. “It looks like you’ve just come to a decision. I assume that means my work here is done.” She puts down her glass and pulls her phone from her purse.
No. Well, yes, I suppose. Jesus Christ, what am I thinking? Connor must be spinning in his grave because fucking Mimi for six months is not an act of service. It’s one of pure selfishness. But short of wrangling her into a chastity belt, she’s going to do what she wants.
And what, or who, she wants to do is—
I cut off the thought the same way Connor would cut off my dick.
“Whit?”
“Yeah. Yes, of course you can leave. Thanks for coming.” Not that I’ve achieved what I set out to do. If anything, I’ve made things worse. “Is it okay if George takes you home?” George is the company chauffeur, not my personal one. Mainly because I prefer to drive myself around. He parked outside, probably getting paid triple time for napping. “If El is otherwise engaged,” I add, making a futile gesture with my hand.
“You didn’t drag me here just to use me as an excuse to leave with your tail between your legs,” Heather murmurs, examining her phone screen.
“You don’t understand. I just don’t want to leave her here alone.”