Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
The tension inside me disappears as the corner of his lip quirks; he’s here for me.
‘Ladies. Charles.’ My internal organs seem to be attempting to rearrange themselves at the deep tenor of his voice. ‘You picked a beautiful day for a picnic lunch.’
For the sake of your mental health, don’t think about what’s going on under that suit.
‘Oh, would you like to join us?’ Fee is already twisting her legs under her to free up the edge of the rug, but he’s already shaking his head. The Remy of March would probably hunker down beside us, but the billionaire Remy? The demands on his time are just too great. It’s just as well. Yet he seems to find time for me.
‘Thank you, but no. I’ve already eaten.’ His gaze flicks my way. ‘Alone.’
Behold the field in which I grow my fucks. Lay thine eyes upon it and thou shalt see that it is barren. Which is just a fancy-assed way of saying, you’re a big boy, you can eat alone. And a picnic lunch with friends is an appointment, even if my neck is suddenly prickling with discomfort. Or did I say I had a meeting? I can’t remember.
‘I wondered if I could have a word with Rose.’
It’s a strangely formal request, but I guess he doesn’t know my friends would probably drag my ass up and throw me into his arms if I refused. I’m proved right as they begin to fuss.
‘I have to get back to the office.’ This from Fee, who doesn’t even work in an office.
‘I—I ’ave to see a man about a dog. A Pekinese!’ he exclaims, but we both know that party is over, Charlie boy.
‘You can just wait right here,’ I interject sternly, curling my legs under me to stand. ‘Both of you.’ It’s not like they’d actually leave, anyway. They’d just find another vantage point.
I follow him to the shade of a nearby tree where I adjust the monogrammed scarf I have tied loosely around my neck, purposely ignoring how the sun crests his head-turning the ends of his hair almost copper.
‘How was your meeting?’
You were just looking at it. ‘Good.’
‘And the rest of your day?’
‘It’s been pretty good up until now.’
At my answer, his lips quirk in the corner. ‘Good until I appeared?’
I lift and drop my shoulder because I’m not sure I could even attempt to put together an answer that wasn’t a lot of anger and half-formed thoughts.
‘Then I’m afraid you’re about to be very disappointed,’ he murmurs, his mouth not quite giving into a smile.
‘And you find that entertaining why?’
He tips his head back as though to watch the leaves above rustling in the breeze. The light shifts and dances, dappling his face. ‘I’d like you to come to dinner with me tonight.’
‘Ah, I get it. It’s a joke.’
‘No, I’m quite serious.’
‘And I’m not interested.’ My words are part incredulous huff, part dude, I can’t believe you’d even try.
‘Fine.’ A ripple of disappointment moves through me. Was that it? He asks, I say no, game over, move on? ‘Let me put in another way.’ He slides off his shade, his eyes seeming to reflect the exact shade of the leaves above, the depths of his determination revealed in their intensity. ‘Be ready for eight o’clock this evening because I’m taking you out.’
‘In your dreams, maybe.’
His gaze moves over me, blood rising to the surface of my skin as though it were a physical thing. ‘No, Rose. In my dreams we stay in. In my dreams, the only time we move from the bed is to change the room in which we fuck.’
The sound that next leaves my mouth was meant as derision. Instead, it hits the air as a gentle breath at his drawlingly dirty elocution. ‘I can’t stop you from imagining,’ I manage eventually, ‘but I don’t have to go anywhere with you.’
‘I anticipated as much, but you’re wrong, of course. You see, I own you.’ He steps into me, forcing me to tilt back my head. But I won’t cede any ground.
‘Maybe between the hours of nine and five.’ I look down at my hand, studying how my thumb slides over my fingernails as though checking for a rough spot. I’m conscious of the gawkers and refuse to satisfy any curiosity they might have by rising to the bait because that would suit him just perfectly, wouldn’t it? Maybe I’d get angry, and he’d get a little cockier, then I’d push him, and he’d wrap me in his arms and press a punishing kiss to my lips. Where was I again? Oh yeah. I refuse to give in to him or provide the gossips and gawkers a sideshow along with proving the only work I do for him I do on my back.
‘Perhaps you should reread your contract. I believe it reads as required.’