Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Allow.
Allow.
Allow.
Each time I thought the word, the fire grew inside me. It exploded like a bomb, heating every inch until I was sure I’d combust myself.
“Fuck him,” I snarled, leaning in so he could feel the rage pouring off me. “And fuck you too. Mama would be ashamed of you.”
I heard the smack before it registered. It rang out in the hallway, the perfect preamble to the burning sting of the back of his hand across my cheek.
The pain didn’t only stay on my cheek. It sunk into my chest and squeezed so hard I was sure I’d stop breathing. I covered the hot spot and looked at the man before me. Maybe he was a monster just like Camden, wearing sheep’s clothing as well.
His chest worked overtime; his jaw clenched tighter than his hands. But his eyes swirled with their own battle. Rage, regret, sadness, frustration. I saw it all, and none of it mattered. We’d both gone too far.
“Get out,” he ordered—pleaded.
Still holding my hot cheek, I stumbled back the way I came, not stopping until I cleared the door.
Tears clouded my vision as I fell into the backseat of the car.
“The liquor store, please,” I choked out. I didn’t have enough alcohol at my house to go back to. I wasn’t sure there was enough alcohol in this city to help with tonight.
I opened my phone and tapped the group message with Raelynn and Nova, but I couldn’t begin to find the words to explain the night. So, I locked my phone and slid it in my purse. I’d talk to them eventually, but everything was too raw tonight. I could barely process it myself.
I ran into the liquor store and saw the bottles of champagne. It hadn’t been what I wanted but seeing them reminded me of the last time I felt free, the last time I considered myself in control of my future.
The last time I felt pleasure.
With Nicholas.
Realization hit me like a tidal wave. I wouldn’t get my chance to keep working at Rush and prove to him what an asset I was. With my engagement party in a month, the cat would be out of the bag. My name would be revealed when Camden, no doubt, shouted it from the rooftops and got the most publicity he could out of it. I’d have to quit before I could even get started.
Grabbing two bottles of the champagne, I decided to bite the bullet and quit before I was forced out and revealed as the liar Nicholas accused me of being.
At least I could do it without the watchful eyes of the office.
It was late, but my badge should work. If it didn’t, then it wasn’t meant to be, and I’d march in tomorrow, in front of everyone, and quit, leaving my head hanging low. The image of packing up my desk with everyone’s eyes on me made my skin crawl.
Please, let my badge work.
I lifted the first bottle to my lips and clung to the other like it would save me before making my final stance for the night.
Maybe my final stance ever.
“Rush Shipping Industries, please.”
Thirteen
Nico
For every hour I was late this morning, I spent two working after.
And yet, I still had a mountain of emails to get through and files to look over. Maybe because all day my mind kept straying to Verana.
Now that I truly knew she was the vixen from the weekend, it took on a whole new meaning. Any thought of finding the woman and hoping she’d wipe Verana from my mind vanished, and all I saw was her. I saw her in my bed. I saw her peel the mask away as she sank to her knees. I saw her in my office, over my desk.
Fuck.
It was one thing to imagine and another thing to know. Now my fantasies came with a feeling that had been etched so deeply in my memory, I knew it would be with me on my dying day. Her heat, her soft skin, her moans vibrating up her neck against my lips, her hands clinging to me.
How the hell was I supposed to make it through day by day knowing all that?
Her parting words that she suggested I forget it like she would, had me both grateful and wanting to prove her wrong. That night was anything but forgettable, and my male pride reared its head, demanding a repeat.
The trilling of my phone pulled me from my thoughts.
My private lawyer’s name, Archer, popped on the screen, and I scrambled to answer it. His sole job was to work on helping me complete my revenge and takedown of Mariano Shipping. The fact that his father had lost his job when Lorenzo dismantled our family company, added to his determination to reach a mutual goal.
“Archer,” I answered.