Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
She smiles. God have mercy on my soul, it makes me want to slap it off her face. I didn’t think Coral could be beaten in the underhanded stakes, but Freja is going lower than a snake’s belly. “Well, I wouldn’t put it like that, but . . .” She shrugs, rolling her shoulders and sending her coat to the floor. My eyes remain on her face. “In a nutshell, yes.”
I nod, my lips straight, and I approach her, watching as her body starts to tighten with anticipation. I get as close as I can without touching her. Breathe in her face. Start lowering slowly, my eyes never leaving hers. She’s trembling. I fucking hate it.
I snatch her coat up from the floor, rise, and shove it into her chest. “I’ll take my chances,” I say flatly, backing away, giving her a look that spells out exactly what I think of her. Scum. We have an iron-clad contract that prohibits her talking about The Manor in a court environment, and if she’s forgotten that, she will be completely screwed. Blackmail me? That is not happening. “Now get the fuck out.”
Her eyes are wide and surprised. It’s an insult. “Have it your way.” She fights her way into her coat, roughly tying the belt, and I laugh under my breath. If I truly had things my way, I wouldn’t be such a monumental fuck-up. I wouldn’t be in this fucking situation.
“Goodbye, Freja,” I say with a finality she can’t question. “And for the record, I had you pinned as a classy, dignified woman,” I add, watching her face fall. “I’m sorry to be proven wrong.” I stride to the door and swing it open, not being a gentleman, but just wanting her gone. Again.
The moment her heels are over the threshold, I slam it shut, kick it hard, and dump myself on the couch, closing my eyes, suddenly exhausted.
Fuck everything, but especially fuck me.
I come around to the sound of my mobile squawking, and I pat around my arse, feeling it vibrating against me. I hold it up. Frown at the number. “Hello?” I answer groggily, swinging my legs off the couch and rising on a halfhearted stretch.
“Mr. Ward, it’s Victor from the Volkswagen dealership. I think I may have found just what you’re looking for.”
“What am I looking for?” I ask, my brain still asleep.
“A pink van?’ he says on a question, following it up with a chuckle.
Fuck. The van. “Yes, a pink van,” I confirm, looking at the window. It’s daylight. What the fuck? I glance at my watch and balk, then swing around when the door to my office opens. Sarah stutters to a stop when she sees me, understandable confusion in her eyes. “Email me the details.” I hang up and show the ceiling my palms. “What day is it?” I ask, disorientated.
“Wednesday. Have you been there all night?”
Shit, I must have conked out. I’ve never slept so long. I shake my head clear, trying to get a grasp of where I should be and what I should be doing.
“Coffee?” Sarah asks, obviously seeing my muddle.
Yes, coffee. “Please.” I drop to my arse, my head in my hands, willing myself to wake up.
“And then perhaps a shower?”
“Please,” I say again, just as the big guy strides in.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Morning.” My arms go into the air, my stretch now epic, and I yawn like a lion. Fucking hell, that felt good. I stand and face my audience with a smile. I get to see Ava today. I’ll take her to dinner. Devour her for dessert. “What’s on the agenda?”
There’s no hiding their bewildered expressions. “The pool guy will be here at ten to fit a new seal.”
“Do I need to be here?” I ask.
“No.”
“Good.” I get on my way, passing between the middle of them. “I’m going for a run.”
“What about your coffee?” Sarah calls, tailing me.
“I’ll have one when I’m back.” My phone dings and I find an email from the dealership. The images of the pink van that greet me when I open the attachment make me blink back the vividness. It’s fucking hideous. And perfect. I call him straight back. “I’ll take it,” I say, rounding the corner to the stairs. “I’ll have the money transferred within the hour. Can you deliver it today?”
“No problem.”
“Excellent. I’ll email you a note that I want delivered with it, along with the address and other information you’ll need. Good doing business with you.” I hang up and take the stairs three at a time.
“Deliver what today?” Sarah calls after me.
“I need you to transfer forty grand to the bank details I’m forwarding to you.”
“What for?”
I stop halfway around the gallery landing, leaning on the balustrade. She’s halfway up the stairs, looking indignant. I smile. “What is it with your incessant need to know the ins and outs of a cat’s arsehole?”