Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
As I shampoo my hair, I tell myself firmly that a little courteous exchange doesn’t change anything. Axel is still Axel, and if I don’t keep to my side of the bargain, he will be furious with me. But somewhere beneath the layers of rational talk, there is a spark, and I feel it flicker, quietly, inexorably, beneath my control. And I know, deep down, that no amount of reasoning will stop me from noticing him.
No matter how much I tell myself not to let him into my thoughts, Axel will always be there, somewhere on the edges of my mind, a presence impossible to ignore, a challenge I never asked for.
And a temptation I don’t think I am ready for.
Chapter
Fifteen
AXEL
Isit back in the leather chair, glass of neat whiskey warming in my palm, and watch the woman across from me. Crystal. That’s her name. It fits her. She’s all gloss and light reflection, sparkly in the soft lights of the restaurant. She has perfectly highlighted cheekbones, honey-blonde waves cascading over one bare, tanned shoulder, and injected lips that seem to be a permanent pout. Her dress clings in all the strategic places and tastefully shows off her ample cleavage. She smells good too. Musk and something floral I can’t quite place.
She is objectively beautiful. Any straight male would find her attractive. That is, until she starts talking. And then she becomes entirely exhausting. We’ve only been here for about half an hour, and I’m already ready to leave.
“So, I told her,” Crystal says, leaning forward slightly, her manicured fingers wrapping around the stem of her wine glass. “If you’re going to launch a skin care line, at least make sure the packaging photographs well. I mean, that’s the whole point, right? If it doesn’t look good on Instagram, does it even exist?”
I nod once. A precise, measured dip of the chin. A gesture that says I am listening but doesn’t exactly encourage the line of conversation to continue.
“Mmm,” I add for good measure.
For Crystal, though, it is encouragement enough. Her eyes brighten, mistaking the sound for actual engagement and the nod of my head for actual agreement.
“Exactly. I knew you would get it,” she gushes and laughs lightly, like we’ve shared a clever insight together. “The formula might be revolutionary, but if the bottle is ugly… no one is ever going to try it. I mean, branding is everything, right?”
In that moment, I curse Joseph under my breath. Why on earth did he slip that stupid stipulation in? I gave up everything to run his empire. It took up every waking moment of my life. And that was fine with me because it is all I lived for. And he knew that. He also knew I have had no serious relationships in my life for the last two years, and have absolutely no interest in starting a family, at least, for the foreseeable future. Why on earth would he want to saddle me with a family when I’m not ready for it? He was my mentor and a beloved father figure to me, but right now, I feel betrayed by him. If it weren’t for his totally out of character and utterly incomprehensible stipulation about producing an heir by the end of the next year, I wouldn’t be here with Crystal. Or devising ways of how I can rent a womb.
“Makes sense,” I mutter, because Crystal is looking at me expectantly, and I guess it costs me nothing to do so.
I find myself looking around, trying to find a distraction from Crystal. The restaurant is dimly lit and intimate. Low golden lighting glints off polished glass and dark marble. It’s the kind of place where impressive deals are quietly made over a handshake. A string quartet plays softly from somewhere near the bar. The maître d’ gave me their best table, and Crystal was visibly impressed. Her friend has eaten here once before, and the food is Instagram-worthy.
“Oh, and then,” she continues, moving onto a whole new subject. “You won’t believe who was at Chelsea’s party last weekend.”
I already don’t care. “Who?”
She gasps, delighted by the invitation to continue. If she were even a tiny bit interesting, I would feel bad for her – she seems desperate for validation. If she didn’t babble on about vapid shit.
“Only Luca Moretti. I swear, he is even more attractive in person. I mean, I wouldn’t date him, obviously. He’s far too dramatic, but still… It’s nice to look.” Her eyes flick over me briefly, and she smiles coyly. “You’re not the jealous type, are you?”
She plays with a strand of her hair, trying to tease me. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and I am in no way getting pulled into it. I hold her gaze evenly.
“Nope.”
She isn’t expecting that level of honesty. For a second, her face drops, then she laughs, slightly too loud. I am extremely protective of anyone I care for, and I won’t tolerate anyone else’s hands on them, but Crystal couldn’t make me jealous if she tried. I couldn’t care less about her.