Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Not rebranding.”
“I thought it was rebranding.” I did not think it was rebranding. My lack of sleep makes annoying this man more entertaining than it should be. Harmless annoyance, for the record. I would never want to truly hurt him.
“Hmph. They’re not using little kid slang. Just no. Do not.”
“Bro.”
“Stop.”
“Your house, or I call you three times a day and call you bro.”
He stomps to his backpack, which looks more like a backpack a hiker would carry, and yanks out a T-shirt. He yanks it on, but the black cotton with the word SECURITY written across the chest does wonders for him.
I’m painfully easy. And I have a small thing for uniforms.
Even T-shirts.
Whatever.
“I won’t answer,” he flings back. He’s starting to pace. I’ve annoyed him so much that he can’t stand still any longer. All that movement should stir up the nasty carpet, but all I can smell is the scent of him. Warm, backed into a corner, spicy manliness.
“I’ll leave bro messages.”
He whirls around, raking a hand over his short, dark hair. “You’re right. A week is all it’ll take for you to completely ruin my life and sanity.” I nearly laugh at his over-dramatic, wide eyes. “One week, then we’re even. We don’t hear from each other or see each other again. My team will fix things and be in touch.”
Ugh, thank god. I got what I wanted, but for some reason, I just can’t stop. This might actually be…fun. Sparring with him. It feels…playful. Quite possibly, I need more real human interaction in my life than just what’s directed at Peach Lips at the shows. Friends would be a good start. “Okay. Do we need rules?”
“About?”
“Not falling in love?”
“Get real.” He’s shocked, but then he bursts out laughing. Whoa. Looks like he does have a sense of humor, after all. “I’m married to my work, and you’re in love with your cat.”
“Don’t say it that way! That’s just wrong.”
His eyes drop to my lap. I know he’s looking at Peach Lips, but my stomach still flips funny. “Alright, you’re also in love with your charity work, which is based around your cat and cats in general. Everything about cats, cats.”
“That’s better. Also, I see you’ve read the memes.”
“They’ve been popping up more often,” he grumbles. “Your phone listens, you know.”
“Ahh!” I have it on the bed next to me. I grab it and throw it, and quick as freaking lightning, Thorn’s hand snakes out and catches it. He tucks it into his pocket, and before I can even splutter, he gives me a look that shuts me up fast as it’s so stern.
“I have one rule only for this week. No phone. No socials. You’re completely unplugged from all this. When you come back, it’ll be a fresh start, but you need to give it that chance. So, for the time being, I’m pocketing this.”
He doesn’t ask if I have anyone who would be frantically calling me if I just dropped off the face of the earth. He knows I don’t have family and friends. He background-checked my ass… So. Damn. Hard. He knows everything.
“Fine,” I huff. “You want to throw down that challenge?” To be fair, I don’t think he wants any of this, and that certainly is not anything other than advice I need to hear and some tough love. “One week until my life is fixed, and your sanity is ruined by correlation? Challenge. Accepted.”
Chapter seven
Thorn
When the fancy strikes me, I can be a real asshole, but at least I can admit it.
It’s been a few days since Ephemeral threw down about my house and I caved just to have this done with. Over and out. It’s going from bad to worse. Time to cut the losses before shit goes full-on vendetta.
I held up my end of the bargain. I sent one of the company’s private jets to pick Ephemeral and Peach Lips up. I thought it was the best course of action as I needed minimal fuckery to go on.
When they touched down, I had a driver waiting to meet them. I don’t use one myself, but it was easy enough to hire a fancy limo to bring her to the house.
I relented. Caved. Kept the peace. Whatever.
I never said I’d be there.
I have cameras all over the exterior and interior of the house. As soon as she rang the bell, I disengaged the locks from my phone. Loudly.
She got the message after stepping in. Loud and freaking clear.
The note on the entrance table with the burner phone probably helped spell things out.
The first thing she called out when it was clear there was no one in the palatial house was, “I know you’re watching me.”
I could have talked to her via the security system, but I found it much more entertaining that she picked up the note I left for her, frowned, and then flipped the cameras off.