Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
It’s like we’ve already formed a deep bond, something far beyond the few weeks since we started messaging. Life seems brighter. More hopeful. Can people see that, sense it?
But if she doesn’t have any evidence, what can she do?
As the limo pulls up outside the office, I spot a few of my workers glancing over, curious. Someone across the street aims their phone at me for a photo. I put on my usual grumpy face—which is not a challenge—and get inside the limo.
Is that another clue? Why is the usually asocial Jackson Cross in a limo when he isn’t attending an event?
Sometimes I hate being a famous.
My mood lightens as the driver guides us through the city, toward her apartment. Dakota has done well for herself, building a big, loyal fanbase. Her apartment is just a short ride from the office. I feel pride for something I had no hand in. Is this what falling feels like?
I leave the limo and press her apartment buzzer. Her voice comes across a moment later, bright and happy. Maybe a little nervous. “Hey?”
“It’s me,” I say, heart thundering. It feels like years since I last saw her.
“Can you give me five?”
“Take five years if you need it.”
She laughs, then the line goes quiet. I return to the limo, safe behind the tinted windows. When my cell phone rings, I answer it without looking, certain it will be Dakota.
“Hey,” I say, happy. Working so much, then leaving relatively early has me feeling like a kid skipping school.
“Sir?”
It’s Elena.
“Oh, hello, Elena.”
“I wanted to say, I hope I didn’t overstep earlier. I’m going through some personal issues, and, of course, I was disappointed about the promotion. But I’m determined to do everything I can to be the best version of me I can be.”
Her voice falters near the end. Is she drunk? She sounds extremely emotional, at the very least. And who can blame her? She worked hard on the Cove.
“I meant what I said,” I tell her. “I’m not going to forget what I owe you.”
“But we can’t agree on a timeline,” she says quietly.
“Not yet, I’m afraid, but I swear, I’ll make this right.” She sighs. I wait for her to speak. “Anything else, Elena?”
“No, thank you, sir.”
The grumpy version of me probably would’ve snapped, “Don’t call unless you have a pressing matter.” But sitting outside Dakota’s apartment, I just don’t have that in me.
“Have a good evening,” I tell her.
I end the conversation, then wait impatiently for Dakota. When a small knock comes at the limo door, I jump over and push it open. She laughs adorably as I pull her inside.
“This is all a little much,” she murmurs, looking devastatingly beautiful in her jeans, an Empire’s Fall T-shirt, and subtle makeup.
“Is it?” I groan, pulling her in for a kiss.
I’m relieved when she wraps her arms around me and pulls herself close. She makes that breathy sound I remember so well from the event. Like pressure being let out. Like we can both finally breathe now we’re together.
“Calm down, goblin,” she teases, leaning back, cheeks flushed.
“I’ll try,” I groan, my cock aching already. But I don’t want a repeat of last time. She’s not a booty call. “Are you excited?”
She adjusts her clothes. “Am I underdressed?”
“You look perfect.”
“I thought about dressing up, but…” She trails off.
I take her hand. “Go on.”
“Honestly? I just wasn’t in the mood.”
I grin. “Nothing wrong with that, beautiful.”
When I pull her in for an embrace, she leans against me, a dreamy smile on her face. I gently tap the front of the limo, and the driver pulls away.
“It’s too easy,” she murmurs, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I know,” I say, chuckling. “If that isn’t a sign, what is?”
“A sign?” She glances up at me. “Of what?”
That we belong together, I almost say, swept up in the moment. But something in her tone stops me. A deadpan question that doesn’t sound like a question.
“That this is a good idea,” I say. Ugh. That sounds weak.
A small smile, less dreamy. “It feels like a good idea,” she murmurs.
Feels like one—but isn’t one? Fuck me, this overthinking is driving me nuts.
“How’ve you been?” I ask. “You look great on your streams. The dungeon team has been singing your praises, by the way. You handled their flagship boss like it was nothing.”
She beams. “I don’t even play a tank usually. And I was distracted.”
I laugh when she playfully nudges me. “I was doing my best to stay out of your sightline.”
“To answer your question… I’ve been good. Same old, same old. My life is simple most of the time. I wake up, try to hit the gym, sometimes fail, run some errands, stream, sleep, and repeat.”
“You’re a well-oiled machine,” I say.
“Are you being sarcastic?”
She seems prickly this evening. Can I blame her after last time?