Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Dark eyes glittered down at her, and Pippi's heart slammed against her chest.
Acheron Simonides.
He was dressed entirely in black (bespoke Dior, she recalled reading from the society pages once), and the way it molded to every sinewy inch of his body was positively decadent. It reminded her of the longest three seconds of her life - her body on top of his - and the instant she thought of it, her cheeks were a goner, lost in the blushing heat of mortification.
Something glinted in his eyes, and because the only encounters she had with the opposite sex were work-related, the meaning of it escaped her at first. Why was he looking at her like he knew -
Her eyes widened in realization.
Lud!
That was it!
He knew exactly what she had been thinking of.
Aghast with shock, her first instinct was to slam the door on his face, but then she heard Mr. Collins ask, "Who is it, Pippi?"
The words made her jerk involuntarily as common sense returned in a flash.
You do not slam the door on the CEO's face, Pippilotta Jones!
She took one last apprehensive look at him, hoping futilely that what she had imagined wasn't real - but it was.
The smile playing on his lips said it all. It was as sexual as it was predatory, and it made her want to hide herself under the covers and mutter to herself, 'it's not real, it's not real.'
BUT IT WAS.
After twenty-three years of fastidious living and doing what she could to lead a life of blessed singlehood, the nasty Fates had still ended up having their way.
The Jones' curse had struck again, and Pippilotta Jones, despite her greatest efforts, was now in a wealthy man's crosshairs -
And there was just no going back from there.
Too Wicked for Love
by Marian Tee
Playlist
We & Us by Moira dela Torre
Best Part by Daniel Caesar
Somewhere in Time
We Find Love by Thunk A Pella
Ms. Pippilotta Jones' Life Hack Guide
for the Socially Inept
If you find yourself in a situation where you're absolutely required to make small talk, listed below are the types of people you might encounter.
1. Babies. You can coo them to death, and it wouldn't matter. Save yourself from social grief by volunteering to be their nanny for the day.
2. Old people. You don't even have to talk. All you have to do is listen. Stick to them like glue if you can.
3. People who are full of themselves. This type is easy to spot, and they'd be happier if you don't speak at all. Their talk might occasionally bore you to tears, but it's better than having to speak at all.
4. People with marriage or travel plans. Ask about their plans, and say no more. They'll be more than happy to take up the slack.
5. Same age, same gender. A self-deprecating approach to conversation is always ideal as this effectively establishes your lack of interest in competing with them.
6. Same age, opposite sex. Underscoring your lack of viability ensures that they do not waste time drawing you out of your shell.
P.S. Above all else, avoid speaking to wildcards, i.e. smoldering hot Greek billionaires who think your silence is a challenge to their masculinity. If you spot this type, run away - as fast as you can, and never look back!
As the Filipino (viral) meme goes, "Kapag tumingin ka, akin ka."
Prologue
NINETEEN YEARS AGO
Every gang had its own hierarchy, and in this dark and grimy corner of Athens, new recruits were fair game. Pests or pets, that was how they were called, and always, it could only be one or the other. Pests got beaten up every minute, and they were the lucky ones. They only needed to survive a thrashing until they toughened up enough to fight back.
Pets, however...
It was the faintest sound, a door carefully and stealthily being opened, but it was more than enough. The seventeen-year-old boy lying on the floor was awake in an instant, but even so his body remained motionless and his eyes closed, the pace of his breathing slow and deep.
Go away. Please go away. Please.
Even though the boy already knew it was hopeless to pray, he did so anyway in a desperate bid to stave off the inevitable.
Another sound penetrated the darkness, so much louder now, as if it were a blatant challenge for the boy to face his fears. His fingers tightened under the pillow, curling around the knife handle even as the sound made him sick with fear.
The boy knew he was too much of a survivalist to fight to the death if he found himself outnumbered, but he also knew it was not in him to submit passively. He could never be the type—-
And then it happened.
Too fast. Too sudden. Or perhaps it was just too terrifying that even though all the signs were there, the boy had made himself blind and deaf to all of them.