Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“I’m actually going to Paris next weekend.”
“You are?” He frowns.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Umm….” I try to think on my feet. “I have a business meeting.”
“On the weekend?”
“Sunday, but thought I would take the weekend to enjoy and do some shopping.”
“Okay, well if she can meet you briefly, would you have time?”
“Yes, of course.”
He takes out his phone and texts someone and my eyes flick between him and the room. “What’s her name?”
“Nel Davenport.”
“Nel Davenport?” My eyes widen. “You know Nel Davenport?”
Why did I say that, it made me sound like a five-year-old groupie.
“Yeah, she’s great.” He puts his phone down and glances over to me. “Do you know of her?”
“Vaguely,” I lie. I’ve got every book she ever wrote, not that I’ll ever admit it. “I’ve heard she’s pretty good.” I try my hardest to act casual. Nel Davenport is the rock star of the interior design world, and this is the opportunity of a lifetime.
I want to bounce in excitement.
His phone beeps with a text and he reads it. “Is 11 a.m. on the Saturday suitable?”
“Sure.” I roll my lips to hide my smile, oh my god…. Is this for real?
He texts her back as my mind runs wild with possibilities.
“All set.” He keeps texting. “I’ll organize a room for you at the hotel so you can get a feel for the vibe I want.”
“Oh.” I should say no but in all honesty that’s probably a good idea, I guess I could always cancel the hotel I booked. “Okay, if that’s not too much trouble.”
He reads something on his phone. “All set.”
“Thank you.”
Ding, my phone sings in my bag and I glance down at it.
“I just sent you the hotel’s address.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Edward.” Someone calls his name and he glances over to another man I haven’t seen before.
“I have to go; we have another engagement to get to. As always it was pleasurable to see you.” He leans in and kisses my cheek before whispering in my ear, “My right hand has been thinking about you a lot.”
Before I can even reply he strides off across the ballroom and down the stairs with a group of men.
His right hand…. Are you fucking kidding me?
“Where did he go?” Helene whispers as she walks back over.
“He had another engagement.”
“Like what?”
“Who cares.” I sip my wine. “Let’s look at these stupid paintings and get out of here.”
“Can we get some dinner?”
“You bet.” I’m all flustered and flushed. “I’m having chocolate cake.”
We begin to wander through the paintings. “So what did he say?” she whispers.
“He’s all flirty with the sexual innuendo but then does nothing about it. If he wanted to actually talk to me he wouldn’t have rushed off.”
“Maybe you’re misreading it, give me an example of his flirty.”
“He did up the zipper on my jeans because it was undone. Said he could smell my white panties from across the room.”
Helene’s eyes widen. “Hell on a cracker, that man is fucking fire.” She thinks for a moment. “But your zipper wasn’t even undone.”
“Well, that’s what I thought, but maybe it was. Honestly, how embarrassing.” I let out a deep sigh. “Who walks into an art gallery with their vagina hanging out?”
“Is your underwear white?”
“Huh?”
“What color panties are you wearing?”
I subtly pull the waistband of my jeans out to look. “Black.”
“So he was lying.”
I stare at her as I connect the dots.
“He just wanted an excuse to touch you.”
“Ugh.” I sip my wine. “He doesn’t like me, he just wants to fuck me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because there is no conversation, it’s all about dick and vagina.”
“Which is an excellent topic by the way.” She taps her glass with mine. “I, for one, love a man who wants to talk about my vagina with me.”
I giggle. “Of course you do.”
“I think he has potential.”
“I’m twenty-nine years old. I don’t want a man with potential, I need a man who is fully potenched.”
“Right.” She nods. “Good point.”
“I’m not going to be a booty call, he either likes me or he doesn’t. It doesn’t matter regardless because I’m not worried either way.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous because we both know you are worried both ways plus another spare way.”
I giggle again. “Right?”
We keep wandering through the exhibition. “What’s going on with Raphael anyway?” I ask.
“Meh.” She curls her lip as if disgusted.
“What happened, I thought you liked him?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “He’s not doing it for me now.”
“This is becoming a pattern.” I frown. “Why do you only like them until you find out that they like you?”
She shrugs. “I guess I’m not interested in someone who has poor judgment.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Liking you is poor judgment?”
“Absolutely.” She nods as we stop in front of a giant painting of the sea. “I wouldn’t date me. Would you?”
“Probably not.”
“I’m a walking red flag,” she murmurs as she stares at the painting.