Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.” There was only one subject off limits.
“You could have literally anyone you want. I mean, Jesus Christ, look at you . . .”
I didn’t smile. I was too focused on the upcoming question.
“Smart, sexy, funny, easygoing . . . protective. Why me?”
“Why you?” I asked, almost not understanding the question.
“Yes. I’m not saying I’m unattractive. But I’m not, you know, bombshell-on-the-runway, front-cover-of-Vogue type of attractive. And I’m not successful, I don’t come from a nice family, I don’t come from wealth. It’s just me and my camera. I put up with some asshole’s bullshit for far too long and lost all self-respect. I hate myself for not just getting up and leaving. I judge myself every day for being so . . . pathetic.”
I fought the urge to smile. Everything she said was ridiculous, but I reminded myself that it felt very real to her. That she actually believed all this nonsense. “Let me tell you what I thought when I first saw you, all right? God fucking damn. That’s what I thought. I’ve seen and been with a lot of beautiful women, but none of them have ever captured my attention the way you have. If you wanted that fine ass on the cover of Vogue, we could absolutely make that happen. Why do you think I want some boudoir photos of you? I want to put them on the walls of my office. Add them to the collection. And the fact that you’re on your own, standing entirely on your own merits and talent, is exactly why I like you. Everyone has someone to lean on, but all you’ve ever had is yourself. I like that—a lot. And in regard to what’s-his-fucking-face, you would have made very different decisions if he’d had the balls to be honest with you. But he deceived you, gaslighted you, and then you didn’t know what was true and what was false. You didn’t know what was wrong, so you naturally assumed that you were the problem. So you stayed because you continued to search for the problem in the hope you could fix it. And the last thing I want to say is, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re way too hard on yourself.”
There was a blast of emotion in her eyes before she quickly looked away, like she didn’t want me to know how deeply my words hit her.
“Would you ever say those things to a friend? To any other human being?”
Her eyes stayed elsewhere.
“It’s one thing to take responsibility for your actions. Learn and grow. But you treat yourself like a punching bag, sweetheart.” I pointed my finger and pressed it into the surface of the table. “Starting today, you don’t do that anymore.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“All right?” I hated seeing a man rip apart a woman. I hated seeing a woman forget that she was infinitely more powerful than he was. But for centuries, women were oppressed by misogyny and sexism and just plain bullshit.
She let the words sink in for a while before she finally gave a nod. “All right.”
Now, I smiled. “Attagirl.”
“I think I’m going to head home . . . if that’s okay with you.” She sat beside me in the passenger seat, her dress up to the very top of her thighs because she didn’t adjust herself when it was just the two of us. “I want to meet Medusa. I just . . . it feels a little heavy right now.”
I was a bit disappointed, but in my book, no meant no. Simple as that. “Of course, sweetheart.” My hand moved to her thigh, pushing her dress up even higher, touching the silky material of her thong. She looked so sexy in the material that it got me every time, even just a glimpse.
I drove back to her apartment, left my Range Rover on the street, and walked her to her front door. I didn’t want the night to end there. If she came by my place and fell in love with it and didn’t want to leave, it wouldn’t even bother me. “Good night, sweetheart.” My hand moved to her ass under the dress and gripped it right there in the middle of the hallway. I kissed her with her back pressed to the door, feeling her hand squeezing my arm through the sleeve of my collared shirt. I could easily change her mind about the end of this night, get her to beg me to come inside, but that wasn’t my style. Not just with her, but any woman.
I ended the kiss before it could burn into an inferno.
“Good night,” she said, a look of longing in her gaze that she couldn’t hide. It took her a moment to let me go, to fish her keys out of the tiny little purse that hung over her shoulder.