Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
"Yes," I say to myself when I hit the button for the elevator and the doors slide open. I hop on and push the button for the lobby over and over as I check to see how far my Lyft is. The doors are almost closed when a hand shoots out, stopping it. I suppress a groan when I see the gaudy watch. It's covered in diamonds and is way too flashy for my taste. It screams for attention, wanting everyone to know that the owner has money. Too much damn money.
"Natalie." Morris steps onto the elevator with me. "You ran out." He gives me that smirk he thinks is charming. It's not. It makes my stomach turn. Everything about him does. I can't stand having to be one of the lawyers on his case. “Not running from me, are you?”
Not today. “Just running late.”
“Court?” He hits the button for the lobby, and the doors slide closed, trapping me inside with him. My eyes glance up toward the camera in the corner.
“No.” I pull up the emails on my phone to appear busy.
“A date?” Of course he can’t take a hint.
“No.” I shake my head.
“That’s right.” I both sense and see him move closer to me out of the corner of my eye. “You don’t date.”
“Mr. Morris, I told you. I can’t date clients.”
“It’s not your firm,” he tosses back at me, a pout reminding me of a toddler forming on his face.
The first time I met Daniel Morris, I thought he was a decent-looking man. Then he opened his mouth. Isn't it interesting how a person’s personality can change their physical appearance to you? I suppose that's why they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
“Policy.” Come on. Has this elevator always been so damn slow? My finger itches to press the lobby button over and over again, even knowing that it will do nothing.
“Hmm.” He sighs, the sound making my body go on full alert. I turn to face him when that sense of predator and prey fills me. The last thing I’m going to do is let him think I’m scared of him. Oh, I am, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Is there anything else you needed today, Mr. Morris? I thought everything had been covered.” We are getting him ready for a deposition that is going to be a shit show. I also know he’s going to lie through it.
I keep my eyes locked with his. “I told you”—he glances away from me—“call me Daniel.”
Thankfully, the doors to the elevator slide open. “I’ll see you later.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to call him Mr. Morris again, but I suck it up. I don’t need to start sparring with this asshole or put a target on my own back with him. He already stares too often, but I'm fairly certain he does that to all women.
I don’t wait for him to respond as I make my way out of the lobby. My car is already waiting for me. Fortunately, there is no traffic, and I arrive at the wedding dress store only a few minutes late.
“Sorry,” I tell Luna when I see her.
“It’s fine.” She waves it off.
“Yeah, totally fine.” Frankie smirks. I narrow my eyes on them. “You totally forgot.” An evil laugh leaves Frankie. Shit.
“Oh, you’re here.” Julie comes out from behind a rack of dresses.
“Hey.” I give her a smile. I hate that I’m disappointed to see her, but in truth, am I? This isn’t the first person Luna has brought into our little threesome. It’s always nice to have someone new, but they don’t tend to last long. Luna has this thing where people latch on to her.
“Do I get to pick?” Frankie rubs her hands together.
“Oh, we get to pick some of the dresses out for you to try on?” I ask, surprised that Luna would entertain our choices.
“I already have them picked out.” Luna smirks. My eyes bounce between her and Frankie.
“Spit it out.” I don’t know what these two are up to, but I do know it’s some sort of shenanigans by the looks on their faces.
“Deal was if anyone was late, they had to try on dresses with Luna.” Frankie finally gives.
“What!” I don’t recall that. “Isn’t that bad luck? You’re trying on dresses. You’re the bride. It’s all about you!” I try to reason with Luna. The second I say those last words, I know they’re a mistake. Luna is sweet and may strive for perfection and to fit in, but part of that is so she’s not the odd one out. She prefers not to become the focal point of attention.
“I want someone to try them on with me.” A soft smile forms on her face, and I know I’m going to be trying on dresses. “It will be fun. You might find one you like, and you’ll know in the future,” Luna adds.