Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
I, for one, am glad. Riggs, however, is still completely on edge, occasionally glancing around the room like an escape hatch might conveniently open up to rescue him from the conversation right in front of him.
“How’s that new data mining collaboration going?” a man asks Kayla. I forget his name, but he’s been talking shop with Kayla for several minutes while Riggs, me, and the guy’s wife stand politely by. I don’t mind since it takes the focus off us for a moment.
“Exceeding expectations,” Kayla answers with a polite smile.
I don’t understand the specifics of what Kayla’s doing with Data Logic Solutions, but she’s happy with the new direction the project is going, and that’s what matters to me—Kayla’s happiness.
“Better than Jessup?” the man asks with a curious furrow of his brow. “Word is they’re the only ones who can do what they do.”
“Were they?” Kayla questions slyly.
The man drops his chin, his brows now lifting over shrewd eyes. “Interesting. You know, I would love another option given Jessup’s reputation for…” He lowers his voice. “Well, you know.”
Kayla knows. I know. This guy knows. Hell, everyone knows.
Brent Jessup was all over social media for a couple of weeks after those videos went viral. There were parodies making him out to be even more sniveling and weak than he actually is and cheering for Kayla’s bold confrontation, hailing it as a model of what every woman wishes she could do when faced with assholes like that. People were doing deep dives on women’s representation in the boardroom, citing Kayla as a prime example of the change that’s still needed, given she had every possible head start as a Harrington yet still struggles to be taken seriously, and the name Jessup has become synonymous with misogyny, which is definitely not the legacy David Jessup hoped to leave in his company’s wake.
The coverage about our relationship served to further fuel matters. There were still comments calling Kayla a Mad-Trick and those deeming us ‘disgusting and immoral’, but the truth is, we just don’t care. Those people aren’t in our lives, in our relationship, and certainly not in our bedroom. We know what we’re doing is right for us and we’re happy, and that’s good enough for us.
“Nancy Lakeman from Data Logic Solutions is here. I could introduce you?” Kayla offers.
“I would appreciate that. Shall we?” He holds out a hand, letting Kayla lead the way. We stay close, and anyone who didn’t know us might think we’re her security, but if a guard dared to touch her the way we do, I’d kill him with my bare hands. If, and that’s a big if, I could get to him before Riggs murdered him.
After Kayla makes the introduction, she smoothly slips away, leaving Nancy and the man to discuss business. “You’re good,” I growl at her, catching her around the waist.
“Of course I am,” she says, not bragging but merely stating facts. “I’ve been doing this since I was six years old.”
I can’t imagine attending a gala like this as a child. I can barely stand it now and Riggs is looking more and more uncomfortable as the evening wears on, but Kayla is completely at home and in her element—working the room, making connections, and charming everyone she meets while we follow her around.
A bell dings over the speaker, interrupting the soft music that’s been playing, and Kayla explains, “That means it’s time to go into the ballroom.”
“This isn’t over?” Riggs grunts.
Kayla laughs, the sound light and bright. “That was only the cocktail hour. We still have dinner, speeches, and the auction.”
Riggs pales, his eyes going vacant. “Tell me you’re fucking with me.”
Kayla links her arm through his elbow, pulling him toward the double doors that are now open. “You’ll be fine. I’ll tell you which fork to use.”
He meets my gaze behind Kayla’s back and mouths, “Forks? Fuck me.”
“Later,” I mouth back with a wink, and he scowls. But it’s forced, hiding the chuckle he started to make. He knows the whispers, and it’s a reminder that he’ll be fine. Kayla will help, I’ll help, and in the end, the worst that can happen is that he uses the dessert fork for his dinner. Truthfully, nobody’s going to give a shit about that when Kayla’s sitting between us at one of the Harrington family tables.
“How do you think bidding on the Devils’ package will go?” I ask.
“Uh…” Kayla goes pink, looking as though she’s been caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar.
I lean in, whispering hotly in her ear. “What did you do?”
“Bought it,” she says with an embarrassed grin. “I gave a sizeable premium above face value for them, but Angeline told me how special the signed jerseys are and I couldn’t imagine anyone else wearing them. I wanted them for myself. They’re at home, in my closet.”