Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Every muscle in my body freezes, coils, and fucking tears.
What. The. Fuck.
I can’t breathe, can’t fucking move.
He didn’t just say that.
He did not just stand here in front of all these people and say what he said.
How dare you…
Roman’s eyes flash, his chin dipping, and only when dozens and dozens of people applauding ring in my ears, do I realize we’re silently staring at one other. So I pull on the resolve I do not fucking feel, and I force my hand to rise, lifting my drink as it’s all I can manage.
My hand shakes as I pull it to my lips, and I wrench my gaze away, knowing, without a doubt, his is still locked on me.
I inch forward, wrapping my fingers around the mic, and he allows me to take it when I was almost sure I’d have to tear it from his fingertips.
“Thank you, Mr. Dominion.” My voice is slightly uneven, so I clear my throat and try again, a little too peppy, even to my own ears. “Okay!” I pivot, but his chest meets my back, and I falter once more. “Um, please, mingle, enjoy, and when you’re ready to head to your memory or missed adventure, you’ll find the room number and key codes in your email right…” I look at Dina, and she jerks her chin in acknowledgment, blindly clicking the golden button on the tablet, eyes wide on mine. Several low hums fill the air, phones vibrating and softly dinging across the room. “Now.” I find it in me to chuckle, and others join in. “Cheers!”
The light over the stage is dimmed, and I thrust the mic into Roman’s chest, hastily making my exit.
I’m forced to smile and chat with the guests in the first row of tables, but I make it quick, and then Dina is at my side, the two of us hustling toward the back exit.
“What the fuckety fuck?!” she hisses. “What was that?”
My body shakes. “That is the reason Roman Dominion came home. To trick everyone in attendance into thinking the beautiful love story that created this beautiful place was made reality by a happy fucking couple.”
Stupid smart bastard.
Tears threaten to slip free, but I blink them away. “What are the chances his little stunt is publicized for… everyone back home to see?”
Dina’s quiet a moment, and my eyes slide her way. “I mean, we only allowed the local news station in for the evening, but both reporters from the city arrived with all the other invitees.”
Fuck. This is just perfect.
“I take it we’re not headed for the upper-deck bar as planned?” she whispers.
“I need out of here, Dina.”
“I’ll have a car out front by the time we get there.” She starts pushing buttons on her phone, and before we’ve even exited the elevator, her arm is looping with mine, her task done.
Out front, a chill runs up my spine, the bite of the cool winter’s air whipping around us.
“If I may suggest, you should grab coats.” The doorman gapes. “Maybe some boots.”
“We’ll be all right.” We quickly slip into the waiting black sedan. “Take us to a local pub, somewhere with a room?”
While the man appears puzzled as to why we’d leave a resort in search of a motel with a bar, he doesn’t comment, simply nodding instead. “I know just the place, miss. Real pretty, giant Christmas tree with presents and everything. The owner competed in the winter Olympics last year!”
“Yes. There.” Dina nods, turning her smile on me. “We’ll find some homegrown Snow Joes to keep us entertained.”
“Perfect.” I pull the pin out of my hair, letting the long, brown locks fall in curls around my shoulders. “Work is officially over.”
I need a stiff drink.
Maybe two.
And dick.
Definitely dick.
Roman
She’s pissed.
More than pissed, I’m sure, but a bold statement needed to be made, so I made it.
Noel Aarons is mine. She was five years ago, and she is now.
Between handshakes and introductions, I lost the woman wowing in blue. From table to table, man to woman, everyone in attendance, without a partner on their arms, stared after the perfectly poised brunette beauty.
The curvy, cutthroat businesswoman, who, in contrast, is warmhearted and built of benevolence.
The best of both worlds.
The ideal woman.
My woman, though she needs some convincing.
I see it when she looks at me, the pain I caused her, the hate she’s held on to.
The love she can’t let go of.
I imagine she’s tried many times to do just that, but she knows what I know.
She was meant to be mine.
“So, what do you say, Dominion? Can I count on your good word?” Jim Furrow grins around his glass of gin, tugging his wife closer to his side when she, yet again, drifts closer to my shoulder.
“I look forward to reading over your proposal January second.”
The man’s eyes narrow slightly, but a smirk curves his lips, as if he’s sure I’m speaking simply to please those around us. “Of course, son. Enjoy the lovely weekend with your fiancée.”