Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“I’m going.” As I step back, finally convincing my body to move, I reluctantly raise my eyes to his. I don’t find the anger I expected. I find remorse. But I can’t fathom whether it’s remorse for that woman, his past and the fact that I’ve seen a hint of it, or whether it’s remorse for yelling at me.
When Sharp closes his eyes and swallows, I conclude that it’s all of those things. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.
“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have pried.” I wholeheartedly mean it, but my regret goes deeper than my disregard for his privacy. I’m more regretful because I’ve spiked questions about my shadow that I don’t expect will be answered. His past has nothing to do with me, yet the burning need to know is there and I can’t help it.
“She’s an ex.” He says the words quickly, and I recoil, surprised. “She…” His words fade to nothing, and he recoils now, too, evidently shocked by his semi-offer of an insight into his past. He seems to shake himself back to life, looking a little lost in the moment. “She’s nothing.” He glances away.
She’s nothing, but he still carries her picture around with him? I offer a forced smile and move to leave, but his hand shoots out and clasps my arm, stopping me. I don’t mean to, but I flinch. It’s hard not to react when a simple touch sends a warmth so intense to your heart.
Looking down at his hold of me, he falls into a trance, virtually burning holes in my flesh from the hardness of his gaze. Then his fingers flex a little around my arm, and every nerve ending I possess fizzles, my breathing becoming shallow. It brings back memories of him holding my hand in Dad’s office, how amazing and calming it felt. I want to know how it would feel to have his whole body wrapped around me. I got a hint when he pinned me to the floor the other morning. And when he seized me and moved me from the path of the security guard in Harvey Nic’s. And when he picked me up off the floor when I tried to paint his toenails. I want more of a hint.
We both look up at each other at the exact same time, our stares meeting and holding. Then his face starts to come slowly toward mine, his eyes flicking down to my lips. I hold my breath, arrested by anticipation. He’s going to kiss me.
I’m about to move forward, too, but the sound of my phone ringing in the background breaks the moment. My muscles lock, and Sharp withdraws quickly.
“You should get that,” he says quietly, looking away. The difficult atmosphere returns full force.
I move quickly, keen to escape the awkwardness, mentally cursing my arse off as I walk away. So fucking stupid! Oh my God, what was that? What have I done? I mentally beat myself around the head a few times as I scurry away.
Finding my phone, I see Mum’s name flashing up at me. I fold a little on the inside. I’ve avoided her all week, knowing she’ll be unaware that Dad’s having me shadowed, and the reason why. She doesn’t exactly hold my father in high esteem since he dumped her for a younger model. The knowledge of anything untoward, especially where I’m concerned, will not be taken well. I don’t need an earache over this. I don’t need her to rant on about my father and his questionable business activities. Anyway, she turned a blind eye for the twenty-two years they were together, when she was living the life she was accustomed to. She’s still managing to live that life, thanks to a good investment after a less than satisfying settlement in her divorce, but now she’s living the life with a shitload of bitterness attached.
“Mum.” I try to sound as chirpy as I can, waiting for the scorn I deserve for being missing in action this past week.
“There’s my girl.” Her soft, well-spoken English accent makes me feel a little better. “I was beginning to think you’d left me for your father.”
I smile, just as Sharp breaches the entrance to the lounge, looking no less emotionally detached than when I left him a moment ago. Though I can see faint curiosity in his expression, wondering who’s on the other end of the line. “Never, Mum,” I say, telling him without actually having to tell him.
“How are you, sweetie pie?”
“Been checking the magazines?” I ask, knowing she’s a sucker for all the gossip, even if it’s sensationalized by the media. She’s asking because she’s spotted Sebastian crawling out of a bar.
“I know you’ll be wise.” She has true belief in her tone. It actually helps. Unlike my father, she has faith in me. “I have a free evening,” she goes on, making me smile. That’s a rarity. She’s a social butterfly, spreading her time far and wide between women’s clubs, tennis clubs, bowling clubs, and endless ladies lunches. I’ve been on one of those ladies lunches. Only once, and I swore never to again. A table full of bitter and twisted women slamming their ex-husbands over cute sandwiches and champagne isn’t my idea of time well spent. “Meet me for a spot of dinner.”