Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I still don’t understand why it’s necessary,” Dad grumbled, taking my cue to speak softly.
“Well, it’s a good thing I have a highly paid team who does understand then, isn’t it?”
Mom chuckled at my dad’s displeasure, patting his chest. “Oh, he’ll be fine. He’s always going to see you as his little girl. We’re just happy you told us about it instead of making us believe it was real. Aren’t we, sweetheart?”
Dad grumbled in response, and Mom and I chuckled while sharing a knowing look.
It was the strangest thing, because I knew when Aleks did show, my father would wrap him into a bear hug and probably steal him away for most of the night to talk about hockey. That was what happened nearly every holiday Aleks joined us in Chicago since graduation. Those two loved each other.
And yet, Dad was acting like us pretending to date was the end of the world.
Then again, he’d eyed any man I’d brought home to meet the family in that same way. Hell, even Austin didn’t win him over in the three years we dated. Maybe Mom was right — Dad would just always see me as his little girl, and no one would ever be good enough.
Mom launched into a story about one of our neighbors and good friends of hers who’d recently hosted a party on their new yacht, and I listened intently until the moment Isabella slid up to interrupt. She smiled apologetically at my parents before pulling me away, her tone low as she whispered in my ear.
“He’s here,” she sang. “Show time.”
My next breath was stunted, the hair along the back of my neck standing on end as I scanned the party.
I hadn’t spent much time with Aleks since our rendezvous at the beach house in Florida. Sure, we’d been seen together at various events thanks to the careful orchestration of Giana and Isabella, but I really had been so busy that, aside from a quick photo op, there hadn’t been much time to spare. We’d texted, yes, but again — sparsely.
My heart was accelerating with every second that passed knowing he was close now.
When I finally spotted him, that silly heart stopped altogether.
He parted that crowd like a scene in a movie, as if every guest here was an extra who knew their role was to step aside when he walked in. A triangle of people followed him, hockey players I distantly recognized with their significant others clinging to their arms.
But all my focus was on him.
He was dressed to kill in a designer suit tailored to perfection. It was a dark mustard yellow, almost brown but with just a hint of warmth to match the vibes of my album. Beneath that suit was an all-black shirt that hugged his thick neck instead of a traditional button up and tie, and I knew without seeing it that beneath that was the chain necklace Annaliese gave him when he was younger. He never took it off, no matter the occasion.
From his fresh buzz cut and the perfectly shaped scruff on his jaw, all the way down to the dress shoes carrying him across the party toward me, he was delectable.
I didn’t miss the flash of his watch as he smoothed his hand over his stomach, the other hand sliding confidently into the pocket of his slacks. He wore a cocky smirk and walked with a confident gait that only a champion could.
And his searing dark eyes were locked on me.
“Damn,” I heard Isabella whisper under her breath. I thought I felt her squeeze my arm before she was scurrying off, she and everyone around me backing away a few feet as if they were taking the cue from the audience parting the seas for Aleks.
Once again, we had a plan for tonight. He was going to show up fashionably late to get the rumor mills buzzing. Will he or won’t he be here? And when he did show, he was going to kiss me in front of the entire party.
It was our first real public event together. This wasn’t a spotting of us at a restaurant or on the beach together. This wasn’t him being seen with me at the recording of a late-night show.
This was our friends and family together in one place. This was an intimate party with an exclusive guest list.
This was our public declaration that we were serious.
And fuck, did that man look serious as he prowled closer, his shoulders square, eyes heated and drinking me in from my straightened hair all the way to my red bottom heels. He was just so… good at this, at pretending like he wanted me, like I drove him mad, like I was the object of his every desire.
He played the part so well it was hard to remind myself it wasn’t real with him looking at me the way he did.