Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“I need to talk to you about something.”
I keep on gazing up at him. Dark stubble lines his jaw, and there are lines beside his eyes and bracketing his mouth. He seems tired. Like he should probably be napping, not standing here with me. “You could have texted.”
“I did. You didn’t answer.”
“Right. I turned off my phone,” I say. “Didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
“No,” he agrees, giving me a shifty glance. “My, ah, friend the journalist. She said you were offered a lot of money for an interview. Are you going to do it?”
I stuff my feet back into my sneakers and stand. “Go away, Alistair.”
“I have to know. Yes or no, Lilah?”
I hand over the shoes and nod good-night to the bartender. She gives my companion a curious look but says nothing. All I have to do is make it to the elevator and return to hiding in my room. I hit the button and wait with my shoulders up around my ears. As if I am in need of protection. A woman farther down the hallway is waiting on something, but she doesn’t pay us any mind.
“Lilah?” he asks, standing behind me.
“The answer is no.”
“You’re not going to do the interview? It’s a lot of money.”
“So you said. The answer is still no.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” He gives the closed elevator doors a scowl. It seems the whole world is annoying him tonight. “They need to know.”
“They? Who is they? Is that your father or...?”
His lips slam shut, and he says no more. Which says more than enough.
“Might be best to make everyone you meet sign an NDA. Less stress. Just make it a part of your everyday life. Get a coffee—ask the barista to sign away their rights. Say hi to someone at a bar—see if they’ll give you a quick signature. I know it sounds awkward at first, but I have every faith in you making it work. And then you’ll never need to have a shitty conversation like this one ever again.” The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. I step inside and press the button for my floor. “I’ve answered your question. You can go away now.”
He just stands there watching me with his inscrutable blue eyes.
My shoulders sink as the doors start to slide closed. The truth is, the sight of him hurts my heart. That and the fact that he actually thinks I’m the sort of asshole who would sell him out. Though I’m sure his past played a part in making him believe I’d do this. Trust seems so hard for him.
But before the doors can close, he thrusts his hand between them. With an irritated noise, they pause, before sliding back open. A muscle jumps in his jawline as he steps into the elevator and glares down at me. Like this is all my fault somehow.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he growls back at me.
9
“I won’t do any interviews, Alistair,” I say. “You’re safe. Go home.”
A shadow crosses his face when I say his full name. Not sure what that’s about. But then, he seems wound up and upset at everything right now. “I heard you.”
“What? Do you think I’m lying?”
“Yes,” he says, looming over me in the confines of the elevator. Then he grimaces and says, “No.”
Surprised laughter bursts out of me. “Holy shit. I knew you didn’t trust me, but wow. Which is it, yes or no?”
“I don’t know you well enough to trust you. But no, you’re not lying. I can see that. Fuck,” he says, the brogue as thick as can be. He takes a step closer, gets all up in my face, and asks in an accusing tone of voice, “Were you in that hotel bar hoping to find your great sex?”
I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “Was I what?”
“You heard me.”
“Because nothing says looking for a hookup like bowling shoes. Why do you even care?”
“I don’t,” he says bluntly. “But it’s not safe picking up some stranger in a bar.”
“Like no one’s ever done that in the history of time and space.”
“Lilah...”
The elevator chimes and the doors slide open to my floor. I head down the hallway to my room and swipe the door card. The prince is hot on my heels. Oh, man. I kind of want to hit something. His handsome face would do. But I don’t, because unlike some people, I am an adult who can handle her feelings. Most of the time.
“Being concerned about my safety sort of qualifies as caring,” I point out. “But moving right along. We’ve reached the part of the conversation where you explain how my sex life is any of your business.”
His mouth opens, but no words come out.
“That’s what I thought.”
“So you won’t do the interview?”
“For the third time...no. No interviews. No comments. Nothing.”