Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
I hook my fingers around his wrists, even though his hands were still plunged into his pockets.
“I know that was hard for you.”
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” He sighs, hands abandoning his pockets to take hold of mine. “But it was the right thing to do. It’s not just that I wanted that. She deserves someone who feels that way about her. She’s a remarkable woman. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen each other since we broke up. We move in the same circles. Her boss, David, is in the Collective, and is being honored tonight, too. I should have realized she’d be here.”
He squats a little to drop a quick kiss on my lips.
“But I’ve been a little distracted.”
I muster a smile, but I’m not looking forward to meeting the “remarkable” woman who’s perfect for Trevor on paper and was this close to being his wife.
When we enter the ballroom and walk to our table, I hang behind just a little, wanting the advantage of even a few seconds to study Fleur before she gets to study me. I’m glad I do, because I see her eyes fixed on Trevor, unguarded at that first glance.
And I know she’s still in love with him.
I can’t even resent her, or be angry with her. My heart, that muscle that seems to have found new life since I met Trevor, actually aches a little for her. It would break any woman to lose a man like Trevor.
It might even break me.
She stands as soon as she sees him, and I revise my preconceived notions of what this “perfect for Trevor” woman would look like. I had envisioned a woman like Henri. Attractive in her own way. Bookish. Ordinary, with dashes of special here and there. This woman is no Henri. Beautiful women are as common as the cold in my industry, but Fleur is extraordinary even to my jaded eyes. Incredibly long, thick lashes fringe eyes the color of topaz. Her face, with high, molded cheekbones and flawless, latte-tinged skin, is arresting and framed by a cloud of dark, naturally curly hair. Her mouth, a tightly budded rose, opens up into a full-bloomed smile just for Trevor.
“I was wondering when you’d arrive.” She grabs his hands, leaning up on her tiptoes to reach his cheek and leave a kiss there. “Congratulations. I’m so excited for you.”
And she’s British, her crisp accent softened by her sweet voice. More than anything I want to hate this woman, but I can’t.
“Fleur, good to see you, too.” Trevor pulls away from her hands and turns to me, his eyes checking my face, which I keep neutral.
She still doesn’t realize we’re together, hasn’t even noticed me, and I’m a hard woman to overlook. She’s so focused on him, it makes me sorry that I’m here and that in some ways, I’m about to shatter her world. I don’t mean to. It won’t be the first time I’ve stumbled into breaking another woman’s heart.
“I’m here for a bit,” she says. “Maybe we could grab a drink after this thing, or dinner before I fly back to London.”
“I fly out to South Africa tomorrow,” Trevor says. “And I probably won’t be back until late next week.”
Fleur’s eyes go wide, a quick grin on her lips.
“That’s right. The Collective is meeting this week. David’s going, too, of course.”
Trevor nods and steps back, reaching for my hand.
“Fleur, I’m being rude to my guest. I don’t think you’ve met Sofie Baston, have you?” He gives a gentle tug to my hand, pulling me forward when I really just want to blend into the wall, maybe as a sconce or the wallpaper. “Sofie, Fleur Adeba.”
As soon as our eyes meet, I know she knows. Trevor doesn’t just pull me forward. He looks down at me, his eyes affectionate. His mouth widens into a smile as soon as our eyes connect. His hand goes to my back, gentle and possessive. I feel his absolute full attention turned to me, and I know she feels it, too. The natural smile withers on her face. She blinks several times, pressing her lips together against the emotion I hope isn’t as obvious to everyone already seated at the table as it is to me.
“Hello, Miss Adeba.” I extend my hand, a smile like wax on my lips. “So nice to meet you.”
She looks at my hand for a moment before taking it, her fingers cold and stiff in mine.
“I didn’t…” She licks her lips, bundling her hands at her waist. “That is to say, it’s very nice to meet you, Miss Baston.”
I’m not the kind of competition most women expect to run up against. Not me the actual woman, but the fantasy men build up in their heads about me. The illusion I’ve spent fifteen years constructing for the public. I want to confess to Fleur that no man has ever loved me the morning after. That it’s all just bright wrapping paper, and once they tear it away, I’m that Christmas gift they forget why they even wanted so badly. I get cast aside and lost in the bright paper I came in. I want to tell her those things to make her feel better, but I know by the way Trevor looks at me that she wouldn’t be convinced. Because when Trevor looks at me, it’s not the brightly wrapped box he sees, but all the things I didn’t even know I had inside. And if I can tell that, then surely this woman, with her sharp eyes and obvious keen intelligence, sees it, too.