Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Nicholas stared back, and I had no doubt how he felt about finding me here. His dark eyes were filled with ice, and they spoke volumes.
Anger didn’t cut it.
Fury barely touched it.
Wrath came close.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NICHOLAS
I grunted as I stirred my coffee, having given up asking any of the runners for one. They never got it right. There was either too much cream or not enough. Often no sugar. Or some of them totally fucked it up and brought me a cup with enough sugar added to send me into shock. The only one who got it right so far was Shortcake, and she was nowhere to be found this morning. Again.
She was a mystery, it appeared, and not only to me. No one else seemed to have heard of her. It was as if I was the only one to have had any interaction with her, yet I swore I saw her talking to an agent I had seen on set and a few other people.
She was familiar to me somehow, reminding me of someone. I still hadn’t figured it out, but I would. Some of her gestures were unique, yet I felt I already knew them. She stuck to the shadows, seemed shy, her voice quiet, but at times, I saw the flash of a feistier personality. But when I pressed her, she ran away.
Much like Mila had done the two times I’d seen her in the pool. It was strange how similar the two women seemed when they raced away from me.
I took a sip of coffee, casting my gaze around the set. The author was arriving today, and I knew Lacey was anxious to meet with her. Or him. There was a lot of interest and even a pool on the identity of the writer. I’d gotten in on it, certain it was a woman, but older. The sensitivity in the writing suggested someone with experience and wisdom. But regardless, man or woman, I had a lot of questions to ask as to my character, then I doubted we would see the author again. Or if we did, it would be in passing. They often came in, did their duty, and left. A few hung around for some filming, but they ultimately found it boring and departed back to their keyboards.
I scanned the vast room again, but there was no sign of the little gofer. It was a shame since I enjoyed sparring with her. Plus, the coffee thing. Even I didn’t mix it as well as she did.
My thoughts drifted back to Mila. The sparring I had done with her. Namely with her tongue in my mouth.
That was another mystery. I had never met a woman like her. Another one who liked the shadows. She said little yet intrigued me more than any person I could recall meeting. She drew me to her like a moth to a flame. And I wanted to get burned by her. I felt emotions I had never experienced with her. The strange feeling of needing to watch over her. The sense I had met her before, somehow already knew her. It wasn’t possible, yet that was how it felt. And the few moments of pure, unadulterated joy I felt with her. A simple water fight in a pool. I hadn’t enjoyed myself that way for years. The women I knew were too invested in how they looked and acted to be so spontaneous. To get their hair wet and giggle like a schoolgirl. To let themselves be real with me.
And although I had kissed her, held her in my arms, Mila was a complete enigma to me. I wasn’t sure I would recognize her in daylight, aside from the fact that she was small and had dark hair. At least, I thought she did. It had been wet the two times I’d seen it. For all I knew, it was red or light brown. Even her eyes had been obscured by the shadows of the trees and dim lights. They, too, were dark, I thought. Yet the sense I knew her went deeper than her physical attributes. It was as if something inside me recognized her.
I shook my head at my thoughts. I sounded deranged.
I was feeling a bit deranged. Even obsessed.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mila. How she felt in my embrace. How she tasted. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to sit with her and talk. Get to know her. I had tried to find her in the hotel, attempting to charm the front desk clerk, but she insisted there was no one registered with the first name Mila, and I could only assume she was staying under a different name.
I also wanted to know why when I thought of Mila, the little gofer invaded my thoughts as well.