Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“I have a lunch date with Alex,” I remind him, my voice trembling slightly as the elevator hums to life, smoothly ascending the dozens of floors, feeling entirely weightless.
“Alex can wait a few minutes.” He reaches into his tailored suit jacket and pulls out a sleek, black, case-less smartphone, then slides it into my hand. “Your number.” I stare at him for a moment longer.
“What if I don’t want to?” I ask.
“We both know that’s a lie. Put your number in, Cory.” That makes it difficult to ignore. A man like him, I doubt he has to use manners to get what he wants. He leans down, lips brushing the shell of my ear, and breathes, “Please.”
My breath hitches, and with slow, trembling fingers, I balance the food against my hip and type out my ten-digit number before handing the device back to him. I fully expect him to step away now that he has what he wanted. Instead, Dom takes the phone, thumb tapping the screen rapidly, and a second later, my phone, tucked into the pock of my scrub top, buzzes to life.
“Just making sure you didn’t give me a fake number. Not losing you this time around.” The elevator chimes before the doors slide open to reveal the bright, luxurious expanse of Alex’s floor, where she just so happens to be standing near the receptionist’s desk, looking at her phone.
Dom hands me back the drink carrier and takes a step back, giving me a smidgeon of space as if he the breathless encounter never happened. As I step out, looking over my shoulder, he is still standing there, holding the door open with one hand. He raises his phone, giving me a slow, promise-filled smirk before letting the doors slide shut between us.
“Girl, you have some explaining to do, but not here,” Alex greets me, letting me know that my interaction with Dom didn’t go unnoticed like I anticipated.
“I really wish we could have this conversation with drinks, very strong drinks.” My day only started, my twelve-hour shift is looming ahead, and yet I already feel like I’ve run a marathon. The man has utterly ruined me already, and he hasn’t even kissed me.
CHAPTER THREE
dom
One o’clock in the morning, and I’m still awake. My work has long since finished. Staying late at the office isn’t something abnormal. What is, is me standing out on the balcony of my penthouse and not feeling a sense of relief. Usually, the sprawling view, glowing skyline, and hearing the traffic below allow me to unwind. Tonight, or this morning rather, it isn’t doing dick in that regard.
I needed a distraction, one that wouldn’t have me bothering a woman this late at night. She needs rest, like the rest of the people who seem to be fast asleep in what’s usually a busy city. I pace the length of the patio, bare feet whispering softly against the polished marble. A glass sits forgotten on the kitchen island, the ice long since melted into amber swirls. By my calculations and the time on my watch, her shift at the hospital ended earlier. I accounted for charting, the sign-out process, and the quiet rain-slicked drive or walk back to her place.
Earlier today, I’d found Alex at her desk. Vik was in a meeting, and I asked questions. I’d used every ounce of my boardroom intimidation to get the woman to give me the details I need. Instead, she leaned across her desk, narrowed her eyes, and gave me a low, lethal-laced speech that would have made a lesser man break into a cold swear. She then proceeded to say, ‘If you hurt her, Dom Mercer, nobody will ever find your body. I know anatomy and I know exactly how to make a man disappear into Puget Sound. Do we understand each other?’
I gave her a firm, respectful nod of agreement and stated I’d never knowingly hurt her. I didn’t tell her that my intentions were to get the woman who has my dick in knots and also marry her. Alex let the metaphorical floodgates open. Clearly, she loves her friend, and while she didn’t elaborate her reasoning, she handed me the details I needed. I took notes, committing every single detail to memory.
Cory’s favorite food is Mexican, tacos in particular—chicken, beef, shrimp, it doesn’t matter. She’s borderline obsessed with copious amounts of salsa, guacamole, queso, and chips. Favorite flowers are tulips, as Alex would put it in a way, as if saying are you serious for the reason we live in Washington, and Skagit Valley is practically in our backyard. I got the hint, no stiff, formal roses or bouquets for her. Drinks come in the form of lemon water by day, dealer’s choice by night. She’s not particular when it comes to unwinding with wine, a mixed drink, or beer. Her sacred time, when she’s off work for a bit of a stretch, is for hitting outdoor markers, walking the steep Seattle streets until her feet ache, surrounding herself with her friends, or taking the long drive to visit her mom.