Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 100(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)
She attempts to hand over the bouquet of black roses while trying to keep her eyes averted. “I don’t know. I only just arrived at work after it came in, Mr. Barrymore.”
“Toss them in the trash.” There’s no reason for me to have them, and only one person who could have sent them.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, who the hell would want black roses?” Knowing they’re from my stalker infuriates me. If they weren’t from the crazy chick, I’d think they were cool.
“I think they’re pretty if you’re into dark colors. They have a hint of red and purple in them.” She shrugs her shoulders, biting down on her bottom lip, looking at the petals. “Still, I’ll toss them, Mr. Barrymore. Should we refuse any more deliveries for you?”
“I’d appreciate it if you found out who sent them first before refusing them,” I tell her, hoping they can find out who this bitch is that’s stalking me.
“Yes, sir.” She nods, getting ready to turn away, but for some reason, I just can’t let her do that.
“If you like them so much, you can keep them,” I offer, delaying her for a moment.
“Thank you, but I couldn’t,” she said, walking away and hopping into a nice dark blue SUV.
I watched her drive away, and then I closed the door before locking it. Dropping the blanket, I hop into the shower. The cold chills away the stiffened ache between my legs that throbbed the moment she called out my name. Suddenly, the hangover was back but a little less forceful than before. I needed some food in my stomach. Scrubbing the smell of booze off my body, I remember the dinner from last night. “Fuck.” I don’t think I put it in the fridge. It’s probably still on the counter, spoiling. I wash off and consider what I have stocked up in the pantry and fridge. At least I hit the store out of town two days ago.
I jump out of the shower and towel off, heading into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around my waist. The first thing I snag is an apple because I need something to hold me over while I dig into the fridge. Spotting my dinner from last night, I smile. It seems my drunk ass did put it away. The microwave dings just as my cell phone goes off in the living room.
Only a few people have this number. Could it be Georgia for some reason? I race to get it, but it’s just Felicity calling, which probably means she has the images for me. “Do you have the images?” I ask.
“Why are you out of breath?” she questions with a tone I don’t fucking care for.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I just rushed out of the shower when you called. Do you have the images?”
“Um…yes. I can send the pictures over to your phone.”
“Good. How many are there?”
“About three different redheads, but one appears in four different locations, so I’m guessing she’s our girl, or she just happens to live in the area near all the spots in L.A.”
“Okay. Send the pics through.” As I open the emailed images, my chest burns when I see her. She’s my damn stalker.
I add, “I’m going to miss your skills when I retire.”
“What?” Felicity screeches.
“Sorry, but I can’t deal with the fans anymore. I want to just give it up. I have enough money to live well for the rest of my life, but I refuse to be afraid of the next damn crazy person looking to be my lover, wife, baby mama. Whatever her goal is. Fuck, this woman could want me dead for all I know.”
“What about me?” What does she mean ‘about her’? Is she talking about her job?
I feel terrible about it all, but it’s not like this wouldn’t eventually end when my career did. “You will find another actor or actress. I can find someone who needs an amazing assistant. I’ll give you every recommendation in the world. You’ve been wonderful to me, but I can’t continue with this.”
“I can’t believe it. We just discussed this the other day, and you said I could stay on, and we have to finish the movie press.” Shit, I completely forgot about all of my other obligations.
I sigh, running my hands through my hair. My fork moves the pasta around, getting colder by the moment, my appetite having left again. “Yeah, but I’m not sure how long that will be either. I’m just giving you a chance to start looking before it’s too late. I’m not saying you have to stop working for me now, but I don’t want to leave you high and dry one day.”
“Oh, thanks,” she scoffs, hanging up on me. I’m sure if she’d been in the office, she’d have slammed down the receiver. Shit, I suppose I should have seen that coming. After ten years with me, I gave her the news over the phone. Man, I’m such a dick. However, the more I stare, the more my anger builds. She is so damn devious.