Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“It will only take a few minutes. I’m a mess.”
“I like you a mess,” he simply replied.
Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment as I stayed in my uniform, even though I was sweaty and wanted nothing more than to shower and change. Just to see the look on his face as I walked over to my usual seat and while we talked over dinner. Sometimes on the weekends, I would catch him leaning against my studio door, watching me with a greedy regard. It was then I realized why he had a couch put in the room. It wasn’t for me. It was for him. Even though he still hadn’t used it, yet. Maybe afraid of what would happen if he actually sat down and watched me rehearse.
Like with everything in my life, it didn’t take long for me to get ballsy. Once dinner was over, I hated seeing our time come to an end. So, over the past few weeks, I started knocking on his office door after I showered. At first he seemed shocked by my forwardness, but as time passed, I felt as if he eagerly waited and expected it. Leaving the door ajar for me when he never did before.
The fact I was relying more and more on Martinez wasn’t something I ever overlooked, if anything…
I welcomed it.
I knocked on his office door, waiting for him to say I could come in. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit in there with him, given the circumstance of what happened months ago. It was as if it never occurred, his office was as immaculate as it was before we both flipped our shit. The piles of documents, paperwork, and folders he seemed to always have on his desk were now organized on his shelves and in cabinets.
I laughed when I realized he had moved them.
“Come in,” I heard him call out through the wooden door.
I pushed the door open, peaking my head in, smiling when I saw him. He narrowed his eyes, nodding to the seat in front of his desk. I stepped in, shutting the door behind me. Taking a seat in my usual spot, tucking my legs underneath me. Looking over the new stack of documents, which weren’t there the night before.
“So… Mr. Martinez, how much work do you have to do tonight?” I teased, much to his amusement. Twirling a strand of my hair around my finger as I bit my bottom lip.
“Mr. Martinez? I could get used to you calling me that, cariño,” he said, not looking up from his work.
I rolled my eyes, grinning. Making a mental note to call him that again. “What do you do in here all night anyway?” I asked, reaching for one of his folders. The warning glare he shot me was enough for me to retract my hand back into my lap.
“I work, Lexi. How do you think I pay for your comfortable lifestyle?”
It was my turn to narrow my eyes at him. He scoffed, throwing his pen down on the desk, and leaning back in his chair, looking more relaxed.
“But what do you do?” I added. “You know, besides all the illegal shit.”
He cocked his head to the side. “There’s more than that?” A smile played on his lips.
Smartass.
“Hmmm…” I brought my index finger up to my pursed lips.
“I can see the wheels spinning in that pretty head of yours. Just say it,” he ordered, reading my mind like he always did. The man had a fucking gift, reading people.
“Are you aware that they call you 'El Diablo’?”
He grinned, resting his chin on his steeple hands. He just sat there and flashed me his devilish grin. His tantalizing eyes quickly changed into the predatory stare, I’d grown to yearn for.
“You like that, don’t you? Being known as 'The Devil'?” I questioned, licking my suddenly dry lips.
His silence was deafening. His intense glare, like an array of tiny razor blades on my skin. Penetrating deep within my core. Making me feel hot and nervous all at once. I couldn’t fathom how he always had this effect on me with just a simple look.
“Do you even know why they call you that?” I blurted, needing to make conversation, and break the trance he had on me.
Desperately wanting him to answer my questions. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. His thumb running back and forth over his lower lip, undressing me with his dilated, mysterious eyes. My heart sped up, heat raced through my veins from his not so subtle regard. When he caught me staring at the movement of his mouth, he leaned back and grinned again.
Growling, “If I fucked you, cariño. You'd know why too.”
Her eyes intensified, waiting for my next move. “My name isn't cariño.”
I peered deep into her eyes, and without thinking, I rasped. “When you own something, cariño, you can call it whatever you want.”