Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I did not, however, like surprises.
And this was outside the confines of her personality.
My assistant was prim and proper. A smart-mouthed ice queen who was bossily kind. Not easily defined and yet entirely predictable.
She wore sensible clothes with sensible makeup and ate sensible lunches. Her curly, ebony hair was always pulled back tightly in either a high bun or a sleek ponytail. She spoke softly but sternly, like a governess. Always carried useful things in her bag no one below the age of eighty should carry—paracetamol, Q-tips, pens, miniature nut packs, lip balms, tissues, baby wipes, and an extra pair of socks.
Actually, I could use that extra pair right about now.
My fingers drummed on the side of my leg again.
Two, six, two.
Two, six, two.
Two, six, two.
“Sir, please.” Thierry swallowed audibly, undoubtedly guessing my next move. “She’s—”
I didn’t stick around for him to finish the sentence. I pushed open the back seat door and strode out, plastering on my infamous I-just-pissed-into-your-favorite-sneakers slick smile.
The moment Gia noticed me, she stiffened, her smile dissolving into a frown. The cigarette tumbled from between her fingers onto the pebbled ground.
Ashley—was that the asshole’s name?—wrapped a protective arm over her shoulder. Thinking he could shield her from me was pitiful. Optimism was such an absurd trait.
Though trite and largely dull, Gia Bennett was, regrettably, a stunner.
She had smooth, tan skin, a long, elegant neck, and two prominent dimples. Her naturally curly eyelashes covered sensual amber eyes, almost honey-like in color and consistency. Her soft, luscious mouth had the most distinctive Cupid’s bow, and a pert nose and two graceful arches to call cheekbones adorned her delicate face.
Row and our other friend Rhy claimed Gia resembled Nara Smith, but the truth was she defied category. I didn’t think there was another human attractive enough to compare her to. If God existed, which I seriously doubted as a secular modernist, he must’ve spent extra time on the smallest detail in creating her, because every inch of her was pure perfection.
Her years as a competitive tennis player were present in every arc and bend of her body.
She was lean but firm, with narrow calves, toned arms, and bitable collarbones. She moved with purpose, with the grace of a swan in a still, calm lake.
She was, sadly, a remarkable beauty.
And that remarkable beauty was staring back at me, looking like she wanted to do very ugly things to me indeed.
“Why are you wet?” she asked, the first to break the stunned silence.
No alarm betrayed her voice, merely irritation. She was the only human alive who wasn’t terrified of me.
Up close, her boyfriend was tall, dark-skinned, and striking. He wore a Thom Sweeney jacket and an adequate watch, so I gathered money wasn’t an issue.
Keeping his girlfriend, however, was about to be.
“You are not in a position to ask any questions.” I smoothed a hand over my coat. “In fact, you should feel so lucky to keep your job after ghosting me. Come.” I hooked my index finger in her direction, swiveling on my heel and striding back to the Rover. “You’re needed at the office.”
“Now?”
“No time like the present.”
“I could think of a better time, and that time is not two in the bloody morning,” she countered in that defiant manner of hers, which reminded me that no matter how hard or far I pushed her, how unbearable or unreasonable I was, I still couldn’t, for some reason, break her.
And I tried.
Oh, I tried.
I was trying this very second, in fact.
She bent and she pretzeled—she even cracked sometimes—but she never fucking broke.
“Mate,” her boyfriend groaned. “Come on. It’s her birthday.”
Grabbing the door handle to the back seat of the vehicle, I threw it open and glided inside.
I knew she’d come. She always did.
See, what I lacked in interpersonal skills I made up for in an astronomical, $600K-a-year salary, before overtime and bonuses, a generous health insurance policy, holiday vouchers, and a Centurion card I allowed her to take for a quarterly spin.
From the curb, I heard Gia explaining to her boyfriend in a measured, apologetic tone that she needed to join me. He didn’t seem too happy about it.
Poor fella still hadn’t realized there was no room in her life for a man who wasn’t me.
In the five years and some change she’d been working for me, there’d been a string of hopeful Ashleys. I always ensured she was unavailable for them. It helped that the headquarters of my company was in New York while our second-largest branch was in London. Made tearing her away from suitors easier. Some had been easy to shake off, while others proved more difficult. In the end, though, there was always something. A Tate-made catastrophe she needed to tend to.
An emergency.
An excuse.
If I couldn’t have her, no one else could. And I wanted her. Oh yes.