Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“I think we both need to learn how to compromise if we want to make this work.”
“Compromise,” I repeated, bracing the sink on both sides around her, my nose very nearly brushing hers. Her entire body was humming with charged, pent-up…something. Desire? Hate? Disdain? I couldn’t tell. Parts of her personality made me suspect she was a grade-A sex kitten, and others hinted she could give the Virgin Mary a run for her money. “Fine. Let’s bargain. Tell me why I should give you your phone back.”
“Because in return, I’ll give you my cooperation.” She smiled winningly.
“Nice try.”
“Well, what do you want?” Her eyebrows pulled together like two perfect checkmarks.
That was easy. Not get a stiffy every time she decided to get a rise out of me. Could she make that happen? Doubt it.
“I want you to make a promise and keep it.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed, like a child listening to a story, waiting eagerly for more.
Was I really letting her off with a bit of homework? Yes. It was too soon for her to find an actual job. If she got one now, she’d be fired before she even showed up to work. Besides, I could follow her around the mansion all I wanted, there was no way an employer would accept me scaring away the customers.
“You may have your phone back if you promise to use the time in Texas to think about what you want to do with your future. I’m talking about getting a real job, Brat. Not one you can do from your phone while taking a dump. Once we get back to Los Angeles, you’ll be making some changes to your lifestyle. Am I clear?”
Hatred stared back at me through those baby blues. She really didn’t want to get a job. Why? Thousands of jobs, in Los Angeles alone, required minimum intelligence and even less commitment. She could be a stylist. Or a reporter for one of those cable channels. The very thought of putting herself out there seemed to paralyze her.
“I still don’t understand why I can’t just continue as an influencer.”
“Well, that’s because your annual income is currently $3,392.”
“How do you know that?” she demanded.
The lavatory door shook again, reminding us that outside, someone waiting now believed we were either fucking or taking the longest shit known to mankind.
“It’s my job to know everything about you.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she closed her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll think of something.”
“And no more pranks. No steak in my closet, salt in my coffee, screaming in public. I apologize that you had to witness what you did the other night, but it was a sexual relationship between two consenting adults.”
Now that I’d listed all of her little stunts, I had to admit, she’d crammed a lot into a short period of time. The door shook more prominently now. I banged my palm against it. “Go away.”
“All right.” She pouted. “Guess it’s only fair, since I don’t seem to be able to get you to quit. Truce?” She raised her pinky finger, offering it to me.
I unlocked the lavatory and stalked out, passing by a man in a suit with a white moustache. Assumingly the shit who’d tried to rush us out of the restroom.
“Congratulations on joining the Mile High Club, boy, but some of us have to drop the kids at the pool.”
Home.
A pleasant tingle ran up my spine, and my heart filled with unabashed, explosive warmth. I ran hesitant, shaky fingers along the smooth surface, shivering again in pleasure. I imagined this was how people who reunited with their loved ones after war had felt.
My phone.
My precious, wonderful phone was back in my hands again.
Immediately, I took the internet package the airline had to offer and read through my messages. I plugged in my earbuds and listened to the dictated version of them, angling my phone so he couldn’t snoop over my shoulder.
Keller: Please show signs of life. I really don’t want to call 911. The person who answers always gives me SO much anxiety. No pleasantries.
Keller: Or maybe he just took your phone again. Merp.
NeNe: How’s your hot bodyguard doing?
Natasha PR Manager: Hi Hallie! Hope you are doing well and keeping safe. We were wondering if you would give us the utmost PLEASURE and grace us with your presence tonight. We are launching a super exciting product. It’s called Totes for Toddlers. Did you know an increasing number of toddlers in the world feel anxiety at the prospect of not bringing their beloved toys and attachment objects with them when they travel? These are DESIGNER tote bags, all handmade and from organic material. I can send a taxi if you are interested?
Wes Morgan: Your new bfrnd is a syco.
Wes Morgan: *sycho
Wes Morgan: Psycho?
Wes Morgan: Anyway, that’s what he is. And forget about the zoo. I already got what I wanted from you.