Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Ten minutes. Then you leave without me having to call security.”
He chuckled. “We’re off to such a great start.”
I was surprised to feel a smile grow on my face. Ripping the door open, I was even more surprised to find what was standing in the doorway. This Scott Blackstone was not the same Scott Blackstone I’d last seen at his sister’s wedding strip down naked in front of seven hundred guests, get in the pool which was decorated with lily pads, and then emerge from said pool with only a few of those poor unfortunate lily pads held to his privates. This was a different man.
I always thought Scott handsome. Was he intolerable? Of course, he was. But empirically speaking, there was no denying he’d been gifted with beauty. Now though…holy hell.
If only the changes extended beyond the physical.
My eyes took in all the changes one piece at a time. The broad muscular chest under the checkered shirt, the thick thighs encased in worn jeans. The longish black hair and short beard. The tan made his eyes look an unnatural shade of indigo. The lashes, though, they were the same. It was the first thing I’d noticed about him all those years ago. Mine were so blonde that if I didn’t have them dyed, they disappeared off my face. His had mesmerized me, invoked envy even.
His smirking expression gave little away other than to find humor in the way I was examining him. “What’s up, babydoll,” he said as he shouldered his way into the room without invitation.
Ugh. Maybe not so different. Those were the exact same words he’d said to me more than ten years ago and that night ended with me almost de-nutting him. Although to be fair, the kiss that preceded the almost de-nutting was a perfect ten.
Walking to the middle of the room, he turned abruptly, his gaze raking up and down my person without an ounce of shame. He paused when he reached my face and something strange passed between us, something indescribable that made my cheeks burn and want to look away. I didn’t, however. I’d sooner live with my grandparents again––a fate worse than living in the Hermit Kingdom––than let Scott Blackstone believe he intimidated me. Exhaling, he looked away first. Turns out, to gather himself up for some big pitch that started with yet another intense staredown.
“You’ve gotta tell Darth you can’t go through with it.”
His tone grated. It was harsh and bossy, and I was tired and cranky. Not a good mix. “Darth?”
“Franklin––the sooner the better. Tonight works for me.”
The eye roll couldn’t be helped. Imperial jerk. I was too tired to even pretend at cool indifference. I tapped my ear. “I’m sorry, I must be getting an ear infection. I could’ve sworn I just heard you issue an order.”
“You want to be married to me less than I do you.”
“True,” I agreed, nodding. Probably the only time we would ever agree on anything.
“Then what’s the problem? Make the call. Free us from this bullshit arrangement. He’ll only agree to it if you do it.”
This situation was complicated by many factors. The job I desperately wanted. The promise I’d made to Frank. And if there was one rule that governed my life, it was that I would never do anything to betray Frank’s trust.
Arms crossed, I drew myself up and clutched at the robe for reassurance. “I gave your father my word.” That’s when my voice faltered. A suffocating sadness came over me whenever I thought about Frank.
“Sydney…” Scott’s stare was intense. The kind of intensity you find on the faces of trapped animals. He looked willing to chew off a limb to be free of this trap––of me. For unknown reasons, that burned a little. “You don’t want to be married to me. Trust me, you don’t. I swear and drink and stay out till all hours of the night…”
I already knew this about him and more. Plus, Scott’s ability to shock me with his antics had waned over the years. When my expression didn’t waver from mildly displeased, he continued.
“…I bring home strange women.”
He’d thrown down the gauntlet, issued a challenge. At least he thought he did. Silly fool. I continued to stare blankly. Thea had told me (over one too many happy hour cocktails) that he’d once brought home a woman in a clown costume. A bona fide clown costume. With her, she had a miniature donkey wearing a tuxedo on a leash. A miniature donkey…a tiny ass, for heaven’s sake. For weeks, whenever Frank mentioned his name, I was haunted by the image of Scott, the woman in the clown costume, and the miniature ass boarding the elevator to get to his penthouse apartment. I hadn’t been worried for the welfare of the donkey because I knew Scott to be a devoted animal lover. The clown I wasn’t so sure about. After the clown slash donkey incident, “strange women” was conservative by his standards.