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)
‘Your timing, as always, is impeccable, Everett,’ he’d murmured. It wasn’t the response I was expecting as, still shielding me, his fingers had unhurriedly refastened the buttons he’d worked loose as he’d pressed a petal-soft kiss against my cheek.
It was probably for the best that we were interrupted, but that doesn’t mean the asshole should’ve taken a seat on the sofa behind him.
‘You said six o’clock,’ the man replied. An English accent. The same guy who annoyed Remy’s secretary, maybe? Whoever he was, he was definitely amused.
‘Ta mère,’ Remy drawled without heat.
‘Sure,’ he’d drawled in reply. ‘But if you’ve the energy to fuck my mother after you’ve finished here, you’re doing something wrong.’
Remy continued to shield my body and held out his hand to help me down from the desk. I couldn’t look at him, utterly mortified as I was. As I still am. When he’d turned to address the man fully, growling a catalogue of French insults, I’d taken the opportunity to tiptoe across the room before slipping out of the door.
Fleeing the scene of the crime, so to speak. Head down, I was too ashamed to even glance at the woman at the desk outside his door, even as Remy’s footsteps followed me out, then again into the hallway as he’d called my name. But I didn’t wait, and I didn’t look back. I’m not ashamed to admit that I hustled, moving as fast as my spindly heels would allow, putting distance between me and that man, distance between me and my bad decisions, while also not moving so fast that it looked like I stole something.
I don’t ever want to be that girl, the one who listens to her heart rather than her head. The girl who gives it up to her boss on his desk. And yet, not two hours ago, there I was, ready to give him anything he’d wanted.
Any way he’d wanted.
I’d managed to slip into the elevator before he could reach me, my heart beating frantically as I’d willed the doors to close. Then he was there quite suddenly, his long legs eating up the space between us, his expression piqued.
Okay, pissed.
He said my name, his delivery making it sound like a reprimand. I felt like my poor overworked heart was about to burst from overload because if he reached me, I wasn’t at all sure what would transpire. Would the security cameras record him kissing or killing me? Or would it be the other way around?
He caught the doors with his hand as they began to close, a strange mixture of fear and elation taking over me. I’d pressed my back against the elevator walls, expecting him to step in.
‘You didn’t have to run.’ His tone was even, despite his frown, but he didn’t step any closer. I couldn’t discern whether I was relieved or disappointed about that.
‘That—that was wrong, Remy. What we did. I work for you now. My first day and I can’t keep on my underwear?’
‘You were still dressed. Mostly.’ He smiled quite suddenly, though tried to conceal it by rubbing his thumb across an unfairly lush bottom lip. The way his eyes drank me in felt like a remembrance.
‘That’s not the point. Who was that anyway?’ I threw out my arm in the rough direction of his office. My fingers were trembling.
‘Someone who won’t speak of this to anyone.’
‘Good.’ My gaze fell to my shoes, and the next words out of my mouth were the truth delivered without thought. Without grace. ‘I need you to leave me alone.’
‘You don’t mean that.’ The doors tried to close once more, but he held them back.
‘I have to.’ I couldn’t look at him. ‘Please let me go.’
His arm dropped, the doors reacting. The last thing I registered was his forbidding expression as they slid fully closed.
I’d escaped into the twilight and took refuge in a nearby café until Fee arrived. I’m so grateful she’d suggested I take her number this morning, or I don’t know what I’d have done. She offered to come and get me, which I’ll admit, was enough to make me tear up from sheer relief. I also feel like a total turd for lying to her, but she could do without being embroiled in this.
‘What an arsehole,’ she mutters, glowering out of the driver’s window, and for a moment, I think she means the motorcyclist who’d just undertaken us instead of responding to my half-truths.
‘Yep, asshole,’ I agree. A sexy, maddening asshole who seems to have plans for me. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
‘Next time,’ she adds, ‘be sure to tell him you need to leave. Some people are just so bloody inconsiderate.’
Inconsiderate isn’t the way I would’ve described him back in March. He was certainly a considerate lover. Considerate and gifted. But now, I just don’t know. He’s got that whole downtown vibe about him. You know the one; I’m master of everything I touch, of all I survey.