Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
I know what that means.
And I fucking hate him.
What I hate even more is the knowledge that Daphne has to work with him. I can’t even think about the fact that I didn’t confront him the other day against my better judgement - not know that I know this.
But I can’t go back in time, and stepping in back then would have only made things worse for her.
Mark would have twisted it, made her look weak - like she needed rescuing, like she needed saving, when that’s not the case at all.
That doesn’t mean I’m letting it go, though.
For now, this is the best I can do - giving her another way forwards, one that doesn’t involve taking orders from a man who has built his career on breaking people down.
And in the meantime, I’ll be doing my own digging.
She doesn’t need to know. I don’t want her anywhere near this - don’t want her in a position where she has to risk her career or her reputation just to prove what an asshole Mark Chapman really is.
So. I’ll do it for her.
I’ll pull whatever strings I can behind the scenes, but it’s slow work.
Mark’s been in this game too long, and he knows better than to leave any obvious trails.
But I’ve been around long enough to know that men like him always slip up eventually.
And when he does, I’ll make sure he’s caught.
I just hadn’t expected her to be this pissed about it.
"And why exactly is this my fault?" I ask, pulling myself back into the moment as I lazily stretch my arms above my head, letting the last of the afternoon sun warm my skin.
"Because you -"
She gestures wildly, looking momentarily lost for words before glaring.
"You exist the way you do - all smug and cocky and… ugh! The viewers apparently love our dynamic, which is ridiculous, because one, there is no dynamic, and two, you’re absolutely impossible to work with. And now I’m the one that has to be stuck doing even more interviews with you."
"Sounds like they have excellent taste,” I grin.
Daphne groans, tipping her head back to the sky like she’s asking the universe for patience.
"Let me get this straight, though," I continue, stepping in a little closer. "You’re upset because you have to spend more time with me?"
"Yes!"
"And you don’t secretly love that?"
Her eyes narrow.
"No."
I hum softly.
Yeah. I don’t believe her.
"That’s disappointing."
She exhales sharply.
"You infuriate me."
"Your readers apparently think otherwise."
She scowls at that before spinning on her heel and storming towards the tunnel leading back to the stadium. I can’t help but grin at the knowledge that she’s irritated as I jog towards her, catching up quickly until I can fall into step beside her.
"Why are you following me?" she huffs.
"I like the sound of your voice when you’re mad," I say easily. "It’s cute."
She throws me an exasperated look.
"You have to stop calling me cute."
"Can’t," I shrug. "It’s the truth, and I don’t lie."
Her hands tighten into fists at her sides, and I have to bite back a laugh.
This is too easy.
We push through the doors into the stadium, the air cooling instantly in the shaded corridor. Daphne doesn’t even pause, just keeps storming forward, muttering under her breath about my stupid face and smug attitude and annoying voice.
I reach for her wrist.
She barely has time to react before I press her back against the wall, stepping in close and caging her in, just like I did the other day.
She sucks in a sharp breath, her spine straightening against the cool surface.
"Are you insane?"
“No,” I smirk, leaning in until my lips are just a breath away from her skin. "I’m testing a theory."
"Yeah, well, you’re getting predictable," she glares.
"Then why do you let me do it?"
Her throat bobs with a swallow.
"Maybe I just haven’t found a way to stop you yet."
"Or maybe," I murmur, dragging my nose along the curve of her jaw, "you don’t actually want to."
She exhales, her breath hitching just slightly.
I grin, knowing I’ve got her.
"You stink of sweat," she mutters, her voice frustratingly breathless.
I hum, amused, letting my fingers trail lightly down her arm as I pull back slightly.
"It’s called putting in work, bella. Maybe if you got a little physical yourself, you’d understand."
Her eyes flash, and I can tell she’s about to fire something back - something cutting, something sharp - when I catch her chin between my fingers, tilting her face up to mine.
Her green eyes are bright and wide, her lips parted slightly, and for a split second, we just stare at each other.
A long, heavy moment where neither of us move.
Where the tension stretches between us, tight like a wire about to snap.
Where her chest rises and falls just a little too quickly, and I can practically hear her thoughts screaming at her to pull away even as she stays perfectly still.