Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Taking a paper towel from the stack, I dry my hands and pat my face. I’ve been in here for a few minutes now, and I need to return to the table before one of them comes looking for me.
Gathering myself, I straighten my spine and hold my head high as I exit the bathroom and make my way back to the table. I’m about to take my seat next to Dawson when Richard holds his hand out and orders me to stop.
“Why don’t you come sit with me, angel?” Richard coos, making me gag a little.
I plaster a wide smile on my face. “Thank you, but I’m fine—”
“Harper, don’t be rude,” Dawson warns. “Sit on the other side.”
I don’t know who I’m angrier with. Dawson, Richard, or myself for being such a pushover. I take the seat next to Richard, feeling disgusted just being in close proximity to him. Everything inside of me tells me to get away from this guy. Instead, I grind my molars and get the iPad set up to take notes.
“I hope you don’t mind; I ordered you some champagne,” Richard says when the waitress appears with drinks.
“Thank you, but I’m not old enough to drink,” I explain, hoping he will leave it at that.
“Oh, they don’t care here,” Richard replies, lifting up the flute to hand it to me.
“I don’t think I should be drinking while I work,” I try again, to no avail.
“He doesn’t care either, isn’t that right, Dawson?”
I glance at my stepbrother, hoping he will at least take my side on this, but Dawson only wears an amused look on his face. “Have at it. I don’t mind.”
“There you go. You’re all in the clear. Here, drink,” Richard orders, holding the flute now directly in my face.
With a fake smile, I take the glass from him and take a small sip. At least I try to. Richard tips the flute up, so I’m forced to drink more. My mouth fills with the bubbly, bitter liquid before I swallow it at once. It lands heavily on my empty stomach.
I can hardly focus on the meeting I’m supposed to be paying attention to. I don’t even know if that meeting is happening anymore, if I’m being honest. What could these two possibly be here to discuss?
For my first day on the job, this doesn’t bode well. I’m momentarily distracted, thinking of some kind of way out of this situation. Do I really want to go to art school that badly?
Of course, the answer is yes. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and it’s within my reach. I just don’t know how I’m going to put up with Dawson and these disgusting antics for so long.
Richard leans forward, taking a sip of his own champagne and looking at Dawson before letting his eyes fall back on me with a hungry grin. My stomach twists, and I feel like I’m about to puke up the champagne he practically forced down my throat.
A slimy hand lands on my knee, and I jerk it away instinctively, every cell in my body on edge sitting next to him. I look over at Dawson, silently pleading with him to say something. I know he barely knows me, and this is something he wants as much as I do, which is not at all, but he’s my stepbrother. That might not mean anything to him, but maybe he could show me a single shred of decency.
He doesn’t raise his eyes from the menu.
I scooch away from Richard, watching as his eyes light up. He knows I don’t want him, but he doesn’t care. He’s the kind of man who gets off on the chase. From everything I know about men, guys like him are dangerous. My mom’s dated enough of them for me to know that.
“Shall we begin the meeting?” I ask, unable to hide the quivering in my voice. I straighten myself in the seat, holding the iPad in front of me and trying to force a professional facade. The last thing I need is Dawson complaining about how I handled myself here today.
Richard reluctantly looks away from me and pays attention to Dawson as he sets the menu down. “It’s never good to rush business,” Dawson says, folding his hands and his lap and smiling at Richard.
A server comes and takes our orders. Both Richard and Dawson order expensive pasta dishes with lobster and glasses of white wine on the side. Because the billionaire I am forced to work for is too stingy to pay for my work meals, I have to go for the cheapest item on the menu. A plain Caesar salad with no chicken—and absolutely no nutritional value considering it’s just romaine lettuce with croutons. Even the cheapest thing on the menu is going to leave a big hole in my wallet.