Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
They had breakfast, talking about what attractions they wanted to see before taking off to do just that.
It was one of the happiest days of Pandora’s life. Walking around and chatting with Victor, buying little trinkets – some for memories, others as gifts – and ducking into shops when random little rain showers broke out.
If Ambrosia’s plan had been to show Pandora how incompatible she was with Victor, the entire thing had backfired epically.
If anything, by the time they trudged all the way back up to the house late that night, Pandora was more convinced than ever that she had fallen harder than she’d expected for her fake fiancé.
She was still battling with those feelings as she made her way toward the bedroom later, but pulled to a stop when the bathroom door opened, bringing with it a puff of hot air and steam.
And Victor.
In nothing but a low-slung towel.
All of the many hours she’d spent thinking about him without his clothes on had clearly been a waste of time. Her imagination had nothing on the reality.
The breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his chest, the definition of his abdominal muscles – neither too faint, nor too etched – and, she realized with a choked little whimper, those little indents of his Adonis belt that dared you to follow, to seek what was hidden beneath the towel.
“All yours,” Victor said.
It took Pandora an embarrassingly long time to realize he wasn’t referring to his body, but the bathroom.
“Oh, right, thanks,” she said, but she made a beeline for the bedroom, closing the door, then leaning against it as she tried to ease the chaos thrumming through her veins.
There was a knock at the door, making her jolt and whip around. “Yeah?”
When he didn’t answer, she pulled open the door. She didn’t know if she was disappointed or relieved that he’d changed into a T-shirt and jeans. “Hey, want to read some more of that book?” he asked, giving her a sheepish little smile.
“Really?” she asked, brightening.
“Really. We can’t leave the heroine hanging. She’s about to uncover who stabbed her husband.”
“I think it’s the brother,” Pandora said, rushing toward her luggage to find the book.
“The brother? No,” Victor said, shaking his head. “I think it was the priest.”
“The priest?” Pandora asked, shocked. “No way.”
“All the signs are there,” Victor said, plucking the book out of her hands as they both made their way to the living room to curl up on the couch.
Victor read long into the night, until his voice grew hoarse and they were forced to both head to bed.
As Pandora lay alone in bed, she wasn’t sure if she was upset, or grateful, that the book they were sharing was a slow burn.
But they had one more night in Morocco.
Who knew what could happen.
26
“What do you mean, nothing?” Lucy asked after the private jet had landed back in London, and she had scooped them up.
After they’d dropped Victor back at his flat, Pandora had filled Lucy in on everything that had transpired in the Blue City, while she sipped the blood her friend had procured.
“Nothing,” Pandora said, slamming her head back into the rest twice.
“But the book had to get spicy, right? Or was it closed door?”
“Oh, it got spicy all right,” Pandora said. “But Victor called it a night before we got to it.”
“How soon before you got to it?”
“I didn’t know at the time, but when I couldn’t sleep and looked at it, it was literally the next page.”
“So, chances were, he saw the spice and just called it quits so things weren’t awkward.”
Pandora grumbled.
“I still can’t believe there was only one bed,” Lucy said. “And then he slept on the couch.”
“I’m pretty sure we have all the proof we need that he genuinely isn’t into me in that way,” Pandora said, leaning down to dig in her bag to find some mouthwash.
It was then that she came across a small box she was sure she hadn’t packed.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know.” Pandora pulled the box out.
“Well … open it,” Lucy said, then yelled at someone who cut her off in traffic. “Use your indicators, for God’s sake. They’re not decorative!”
Pandora flipped the top off the box, finding a set of silver earrings with blue accents the same colour as the stairs they’d climbed several times a day while in Morocco.
On the lid of the jewelry box was a small handwritten note.
Something new and something blue.
“Oh, come now,” Lucy said. “That man is in love with you.”
“For someone who is in love with me, he certainly does everything in his power not to touch me.”
“Maybe you’re not giving out the right vibes,” Lucy said. “You – hey, it’s called driving, not bumper cars!” She slammed on the brakes. “You need to let him know how much you want him.”