Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I don’t give a shit if it’s appropriate or not, my wife is going to be the inspiration for every fantasy I have until the day she divorces me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Trina
I ate all of my dinner with my left hand in my lap.
That’s because I know far too many people in New York City, and I didn’t want any of them spotting the sparkler on my left hand. I’m still in the process of crafting a speech to recite to my family as soon as I’m divorced.
It won’t be easy, but I’m hoping that once they hear that I did it mostly to make Mr. Abdon happy, they’ll understand.
The money is a great perk, though.
“Where to now?” Lloyd spins in a circle on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant.
He toasted to our marriage so many times during dinner that I lost track.
Graham and I both lifted our wine glasses silently each time, clinking them together before taking a sip of the bold red wine.
I had to pretend to sip after the sixth toast so I could manage to leave the restaurant on my own two feet.
“Home,” Graham mutters.
“It’s late,” I chime in to second my husband’s suggestion. “I can make us some herbal tea before you go to bed.”
Both men turn to look at me.
Lloyd’s gaze is soft.
Graham can’t seem to take his eyes off the front of my dress. I admit the neckline plunges, but it’s the nicest little black dress I own, and I wanted to look extra special since Mr. Abdon dropped a few hundred dollars on the meal we just ate. Most of that was spent on wine.
“Look at you two.” Lloyd’s hand traces circles in the air as if he’s a magician about to unveil a hidden rabbit. “You’re eager to hit the hay.”
I can’t speak for my boss, but I’m ready to call it a night.
Today has felt like four days compressed into one.
I need a break and something stronger than herbal tea. I wish I were at home so I could knock on Aurora’s door for a hot cup of coffee and one of her smiles.
“I’ll get a car to pick us up.” Graham’s fingers fly over his phone’s screen. “The wait shouldn’t be long.”
A shiver runs through me as I nod. I didn’t think to grab a sweater to ward off the cool evening breeze. I had to rush to get ready when Graham sent me a text message telling me to meet him and Lloyd in the living room.
The warm shower I took was way too long, and that’s not because I spent thirty minutes conditioning my hair.
I touched myself as the water ran over me.
Thoughts of my husband may have been playing in my mind. It was hard not to think about the way his hands felt on my body as he carried me to his bedroom or the way he stared at me after he set me down on my feet.
“You’re cold.” Graham steps toward me. “You’re cold, aren’t you, Trina?”
Before I can get a word out, his suit jacket is off of his body and wrapped around mine. He adjusts the lapels, taking a moment to slide his fingers down them until they almost brush against my breasts.
I stare at him. “Thank you, Graham.”
“Back in my day we’d call that chivalrous,” Lloyd says from where he’s standing to the left of us. “You’ve come a long way from the boy you used to be, Bull.”
I look into my husband’s eyes. “Bull? That’s your nickname?”
“Was,” he gently corrects me as he once again adjusts the jacket wrapped around me.
“We agreed that I’d stop calling him that around the office. I got used to that, but now that I’m retired, it slips out,” Mr. Abdon explains with a chuckle.
I want to get to the bottom of this, so I press on, “Lloyd, why Bull? Where did that come from?”
Graham’s index finger darts to my chin. He turns my head a touch until I’m looking at him again. “It’s a very long and boring story that’s not worth getting into.”
I glance over his shoulder at the few cars that are approaching us. “I think we have time. It doesn’t look like our ride is within sight.”
Lloyd clears his throat to gain my attention again. “It started when he was a lot younger.”
Whatever he says next is lost under the sound of my husband’s voice. “I played football in high school. I picked up the nickname then.”
“Graham,” Lloyd snaps out.
My gaze volleys between both men. It’s obvious that Graham isn’t telling me the whole story behind the name, but Lloyd wants to, so I focus on him. “How did you hear about the name if it was Graham’s nickname in high school?”
Lloyd glances at Graham. I’ve seen that look only a handful of times in the past, and it’s always been in the office when Lloyd has been primed to drop some juicy details about a business deal.