Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
I marched several times in and out of her office, removing chocolate and fruit baskets. Gretchen explained that she hated the pollen in flowers and loathed having sweets around her because she was doing keto.
She sat at her desk with the air of a saint who’d just been appointed by the pope, receiving visitors. You’d think she herself was going to be the president of the United States, not just his mouthpiece.
Gretchen and I still hadn’t broached the subject of Riggs, but she stopped glancing at me anxiously, like I was about to spill her secret during staff meetings. From this, I deducted she knew that Riggs and I had entered into an arrangement of sorts and felt confident I’d keep my mouth shut. Which could explain why she’d gone back to treating me like I was a piece of gum that was stuck onto her Jimmy Choos.
I wondered if Gretchen and Riggs had slept together since I caught them red handed. Not that it mattered.
As it turned out, I got my answer anyway. It was on my fifth run to her office. I opened her door, then stopped abruptly. Riggs was in the room, sprawled on the edge of her desk lazily. My heart dropped to my knickers, which, unfortunately, were already dampening at the sight of him.
He wore cargo pants, an asymmetrical smirk, and an army-hued henley that clung to each of his muscles like a Harry Styles fangirl. It felt weird, seeing him not in the confines of my flat. A wild, wanton thing.
Gretchen had her hand on his arm. They stood close. Too close to not be sleeping together anymore. And I couldn’t help but remember how they were fused together as he shagged her raw against her wall. How his arse muscles contracted with each thrust. The hedonistic, sensual look on his face as he tipped his head back, displaying his square jaw . . .
Stop this right now. Think about something else. Something sad. BJ being a terrible boyfriend. Poverty. Climate change. J.Lo taking Ben Affleck’s name like it wasn’t 2022.
I didn’t know why, but Riggs was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Come on! The woman was married. How many men did she need? Didn’t she know that there was a shortage? For every hundred women in the US, there were only 97.95 males! This was pure greed. Attractive men weren’t a hot dog eating contest. You didn’t have to shove as many as you could fit into your mouth to win a trophy.
Plus, I thought irrationally, he was my future husband.
“Ugh, Duffy.” Gretchen didn’t bother stepping away from Riggs, her tits plastered against his chest. “Barging in without knocking again. Don’t you ever learn?”
Do not kill your boss, Daphne Markham. You are not meant for a life in prison.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, gathering more chocolate and flowers in my hands. I kept my head down, refusing to make eye contact with Riggs. “Didn’t realize you had company.”
“Knock, Duffy, knock. It’ll do you wonders.” Gretchen flipped her blonde hair patronizingly before dragging her manicured fingernails down Riggs’s chest. “I’m all packed up and ready to leave. You coming to my place?”
A box of chocolate fell from the mountain in my hands. I picked it up, flustered, letting out a pathetic whimper. I hated that he was seeing me like this.
He clamped her wrist and removed it from his chest. “Rain check. I gotta check out some new photography equipment in Brooklyn.”
“I’ll come with.” She grabbed her purse, rummaging through it to disguise her embarrassment at his blatant rejection. “I don’t have to head back home until later tonight.”
“No need. I’m meeting Christian afterward.”
“You’re choosing your boring, married friend over me?” she asked incredulously.
“That he’s boring is unfortunate, but I like his wife more than you, so.”
Ouch.
Gretchen obviously didn’t like his brush-off and decided to direct her wrath at me.
“Oh, you’re still here.” She scrunched her nose. “Well, don’t just stand there. Your last shift isn’t over yet. Offer my guest a drink.” She motioned to Riggs.
God, I hated her. But not enough to cock up my future job prospects by giving her the golden opportunity not to write me a glowing reference letter.
“Would you like something to drink, Riggs?” I asked as blandly as possible, balancing her farewell gifts in my arms.
“It’s Mr. Bates to you.” Gretchen rested her chin on her knuckles demurely. “Now’s a good time to remember we’re just doing you a favor. It’s not like he—”
“I’ve never seen a female pissing contest before, but I have to say, I’m not a huge fan,” Riggs interrupted, throwing Gretchen a put-off look. “Anyway, I just came to say goodbye before you fly to DC. Hey, Poppins, need me to pick something up for dinner?” He threw me one of his sultry glances. Or maybe it was just his default sexiness. His existence alone probably encouraged ovulation.