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)
Despite my best efforts to look unaffected in front of my so-called friends, I caved.
“What are you doing?” I asked him finally.
“Canceling all of your professional obligations for the week. I gave myself access to your Google calendar yesterday when you were busy screaming into your pillow.” He didn’t look up from his screen.
Tara cupped her mouth. NeNe keeled over, pretending to gag.
“You can’t do that.” I shot up to my feet, balling my fists beside my body.
“Already did.” He tucked his phone into his front pocket. “Ladies.” He nodded toward them. “It was a displeasure, if not a complete nightmare.”
Tara and NeNe did not produce a sound. I couldn’t think of a single occasion where they might have encountered someone as rude and as unimpressed with their existence as Ransom.
Rather than stand there and convince me to come with him, he began making his way to my Nissan LEAF. This reminded me that he had my car keys—he had insisted on driving here himself because, quote, “I don’t trust you with a Q-tip, let alone a vehicle.”
He was leaving me there to fend for myself. After canceling my credit cards and putting Dennis on paid leave.
I glanced around me, and saw that Tara and Nectarine were staring at me with a mixture of shock and horror.
“I…I have to go.” I followed Ransom, who was already rounding the street corner and walking into the parking lot. I put my hand on his arm to try to slow him down, but he was fast.
“What’s your problem?” I roared.
His face was stone-cold, his jaw tense as he answered. “Some abandonment issues with a dash of anger management, and inherent impatience. All self-diagnosed. Your turn.”
“My problem is you!” I panted, trying to keep up with his steps.
“Shame.” Mild amusement colored his tone. “Your opinion means so much to me.”
“Did you really cancel all my obligations for this week?” I demanded.
“Yes.” He unlocked my black Nissan LEAF, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You overstayed at the café, breaking your contractual obligation, not even two hours after signing it. If you can’t play by the rules—you won’t be playing at all.”
He revved up the engine before I got inside. I had to jump in quickly from fear he’d leave me there.
Shit. If only I’d read the stupid contract, I’d know what on earth he was talking about. What else I’d signed up for.
“You’re a sadist,” I remarked.
He backed out of the parking space and bolted out of the lot like a professional racecar driver. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“It was, coming from someone with the rhetorical prowess of a nursery schooler. Nice job you got there. Cool friends, too.”
NeNe and Tara weren’t really my friends, but I didn’t want to wash my hands of them just because this man was the most condescending creature on planet Earth.
“My friends aren’t idiots. They’re just…” I tried to think of a flattering way to describe Tara and Nectarine.
“Morons?” Ransom suggested unhelpfully.
“Sheltered.”
“From what? Libraries?” he spat out. “Your friends are a reflection of who you are. And right now it’s looking pretty damn shallow, Brat. You’re aiming too low.”
“We conduct business together. That doesn’t make us soulmates,” I said shortly.
“Those girls couldn’t even spell the word business if they put both their heads together.” He weaved through the condensed Los Angeles traffic. It was so hot the palm trees looked like they were trying to hunch down to avoid the sun.
“I’ve never met someone more judgmental than you!” I flung my arms in the air.
“Try leaving L.A. The world is full of people who actually appreciate substance.”
No point in going back and forth with this guy. We spent the rest of the drive in tense silence. I didn’t dare imagine what Tara and NeNe must have been saying behind my back right now. The scene with Ransom was beyond humiliating. I couldn’t afford to be seen bickering with him in public. He was going to ruin what little respect I’d gained for myself in Tinseltown.
But caving to his tyrannical ways was not an option, either. I had to get rid of him, fast.
When we got back to the house, Ransom informed me he was going out to run errands. He did so in his signature, obnoxious fashion. Flinging open my bedroom door without knocking, and giving me his wouldn’t-burn-you-with-my-last-match expression.
Despite his crudeness, I was ecstatic. Finally, I was going to have some alone time to execute my get-rid-of-Ransom plan.
“I’ll try not to miss you too much.” I jumped up from my bed, about to slam the door in his face. I was on my phone, calling people he’d canceled on that week—party promoters, PR managers, and even Keller—and apologizing for the last-minute bailout.
“Max’ll keep you company, so don’t get any ideas.” Ransom scowled.
Yes. Of course. Max. If only I had the faintest idea who the man was.