Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“You’re more than welcome to come with us,” Posey offers. “Four is never a crowd.”
He looks her way, grinning as he does. “Thank you, Posey, but I have some important planning to do. I’m cooking dinner for the most amazing woman tomorrow night, and I want the evening to be perfect.”
My stomach drops. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s got a date tomorrow. Whoever she is, I envy her.
“Okay,” she whispers before glancing at me with disappointment marring her expression.
I feel that, too, but I won’t show it. I can’t show it. I will never let a man see me break apart because of him. I let that happen once and vowed I’d never repeat it.
William keeps his gaze on my face as he approaches where I’m standing. “If you have any food allergies, now is the time to speak up, Opal. I don’t want anything interrupting our evening together tomorrow, especially not a visit to the emergency room.”
An uncontrollable smile edges over my lips. Usually, I’d be slightly annoyed if a man assumed I’d be free instead of outright asking me, but this is William, and all I can think about is being in his home alone with him tomorrow night.
“No allergies,” I say as I look into his eyes. “Should I bring anything?”
“Just you.” He moves even closer to tilt my chin up with his finger.
My breath hitches because I sense he’s about to kiss me again. This time it will be in front of Posey, but I don’t care. I’d kiss this man in the middle of Times Square any day of the week.
As he moves in, he smiles softly before his lips brush the center of my forehead. “I’ll text you my address, and we’ll figure out a time that works for you.”
“Perfect,” I say as I stare into his eyes because that’s exactly what this moment feels like.
29
William
I tug my tie off and toss it on the black leather bench that is centered beneath one of the massive windows in my bedroom. The décor in here was carefully chosen by one of the city’s best interior design firms. Whenever they requested my input, I’d tell them they had my full trust because they did.
They transformed an empty and uninspired space into the penthouse of my dreams. All the work that’s gone into making all four thousand square feet feel like home is almost complete. The kitchen is still undergoing a massive renovation. I promised Opal a home-cooked meal tomorrow night, so I need to consider my options.
I rid myself of my suit jacket and vest, hanging both on a rack in the walk-in closet. My shirt is next. It lands in the bin that will be emptied when I go to Roberto’s dry cleaning shop to drop off my worn shirts and whatever suits need a refresh. That typically happens once a week when I remember to run the errand.
After kicking off my shoes and socks, I drop my pants and toss them onto the bench, too, before heading to the kitchen to assess its state.
Courtesy of a well-honed smart home system, the blinds that cover the windows lower into place each day at sunset. That’s a good thing since I’m currently wandering my home in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.
I round the corner and enter the kitchen. Shaking my head, I let out a chuckle. “So close yet so far.”
Another week or two and I’ll be able to cook dinner for Opal in here, but the granite countertop for the island has yet to be installed. Also, I’m waiting for a new dishwasher to be delivered, although that’s not a deal breaker when it comes to hosting the most beautiful woman in the world for dinner.
In fact, I could swing it. There’s enough counter space to grant me the room I need for preparation, and the old dishwasher still functions, although it’s noisy as hell. I’m pretty sure the people who live below me can’t hear each other talk when I run it.
I stand in the shadow of the light emanating from over the gas range and consider what the text message I’m about to send Opal should say.
I’ve never invited a woman here, and that’s not because it’s been a construction zone since I moved in. It hasn’t. This is my sanctuary. It’s the one place in the city I can retreat to that’s completely mine. My siblings have only made it past the doorman a handful of times because I usually meet them at a restaurant or one of their apartments.
I exit the kitchen and head straight to the main living area, where I dropped my phone when I got home. I scoop it off the couch and glance at the screen. Notifications of several missed calls and at least a dozen text messages greet me.