Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“That’s how our families operate. It’s all for show.” He raises his glass. “To Sara Lynn’s birthday.”
“Right. To Sara Lynn.” I reluctantly drink. “Are you here alone?”
“I had a business meeting, and I was just headed home when I spotted you.”
“Well, thanks for stopping by, I don’t want to keep you.” I smile at him but he still lingers, staring at me with that intense gaze, and I wriggle slightly under the pressure I feel in my chest. What is it about this man and the way he looks at me? It’s not a kind look, not soft or amusing, and not like the guys downstairs. They looked at me like I was a money sign, or like I was a door through which they could step into real power, or like I was some other means to an ends.
Ford’s looking at me like I’m flesh and blood. Like I’m a woman in a dress with her hair down and wearing her favorite jewelry, and he’s noticing every little detail about me. I feel studied and for the first time in my life, I like it. I like the idea that Ford’s paying attention to me, of all people, despite the way our families think about each other. Most nights, I’d expect Ford to breeze past me, or to lob a casual insult in my direction purely for sport, or to whisper something nasty behind my back.
Instead, he seems almost charmed by me.
And I have no clue why.
“You know, I’m not in a rush to get back to my empty apartment. If you’re looking for an escape from that dreary party, why not come have a drink with me?”
I hesitate and alarm bells start screaming in my head. Why would Ford Arc want to have a drink with me of all people? I’ve had one single interaction with him and he told me he wouldn’t care if my cousin threw me off a cliff. And now he’s acting like we’re old friends reuniting after years of not speaking for no good reason, and I don’t understand why.
I’m being paranoid and for good reason. I just came from a party where all the men that so much as looked at me had an ulterior motive. Ford’s only being nice—it’s what normal people do to other people, after all—and I decide to smile and shake my head.
“Thanks, but I should get back.”
“Suit yourself, but they’re going to know as soon as you step downstairs.”
“Know what?”
“That you’d rather be anywhere else.”
I snort and cover it by sipping my wine awkwardly. “You can really tell?”
“It’s written all over you. Why else escape into the lobby? It’s not to enjoy the tree.”
“It’s a nice tree though.”
“Beautiful tree,” he agrees. “But that’s not something a happy woman does. So what’s driving you out here really?”
“Family stuff,” I say and before I can spill my guts, Sara Lynn appears at the stairs, scans the hall, and locks eyes with me. Her face falls, anger tinting around her eyes, and she strides over with a clack-clack of her heels on tile. “Speaking of which, looks like I’m being summoned.”
Ford turns as Sara Lynn appears, and she stops in her tracks. I swear her face turns pale and her eyes widen and for one second, I think she’s going to turn around and run away. Ford smile and raises his drink in greeting. Sara Lynn stands stiffly, her jaw tight, and nods back.
“Sara Lynn, speak of the devil herself,” Ford says. “Happy birthday. I’d say I’m angry I wasn’t invited, but—”
“What are you doing here, Ford?”
“Business. That’s what the Oak’s normally for, isn’t it?” He glances at me. “Sara Lynn must’ve had one too many to drink.” He drains his own glass and puts it down on a nearby table.
I cover my laughter with a hand over my mouth. Sara Lynn’s face turns pink and she puts her hands on her hips. “I am pregnant. I am not drinking. Kat, Grandfather wants you back downstairs. Now.” She says it in that better-obey-stupid-cousin tone she reserves just for me.
“Okay, I’m coming.” I nod to Ford. “Nice talking to you.”
“Enjoy the party. Seems like it’s a really good time. I’m almost jealous.” His smirk means he’s sarcastic as hell, and I try not to laugh as Sara Lynn turns and starts away.
But as I pass him, Ford steps forward. His hand grabs my arm, not too tightly, and he holds me there for one second as his other hand slips down toward my hip. I suck in a breath as his fingers grace against my side until I realize what he’s doing: he reaches the clutch I have under my elbow, undoes the latch with his fingers, and slips something inside. “In case you decide to ditch out on the party,” he whispers and let me go.