Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Putting his hands behind his head, he settled down in the bed to try to grab some sleep. Unable to let it go, he stared at the ceiling and imagined the two possible outcomes when the moment of reckoning finally came. He was either going to see her and get immediate relief from his ridiculous fantasies, or . . . or, he was going to see her and then have to fuck her to make them go away.
So much angst because of one damn female. The fact that she was an employee would definitely keep her in his vicinity for a while, which suited him, but it also made him grimace. He admitted, fucking her would be so much easier if she didn’t work for the corporation, but hell, he was probably going to fire her on the spot anyway.
Why the hell couldn’t that sultry voice have belonged to his doctor’s receptionist or some such shit?
He pushed the problem from his brain, knowing he’d handle it somehow.
And the fact that she was undoubtedly as pissed off as he was?
He’d deal with that setback when the time came as well.
Chapter One
Garrett strolled into the hotel after eleven o’clock the next night. As he walked through the vestibule, he glanced around and quickly took in the updates to the décor that had been implemented since the last time he’d been there. Most were easy to spot: new flooring, fresh paint, updated furniture.
Dropping his single bag at his side in front of the reception desk, he glanced at the time. Eleven-fifteen. Neither the general manager who was temporarily in charge, nor the girl he had intentions of ambushing would still be around. Only the night staff were in attendance, and he was impatient with the delay. By all rights, he should have had jet lag, but he didn’t. He’d had a private room on one of the new Emirates airplanes, and he’d slept like a baby and was even now, raring for his first sight of the girl.
As he checked in, he looked around. The bar was closed, as was the on-site restaurant. A janitor pushed a trolley unobtrusively down the hallway next to the elevators. Flattening his lips, he knew he had to find a way to expend his pent-up energy. If he didn’t, he’d be awake all night and he’d be fucked the next day.
****
Maria completed swimming her ninth lap, did a somersault underwater and pushed off the edge, putting everything she had into the final round. Her thighs were burning, her biceps were screaming, but unfortunately, her frustration level was still off the charts.
She hadn’t even finished yet, and already she knew the intense exercise wasn’t going to help. Not one iota, not a damn bit.
She was too pissed to calm down. There was one concept that sent her admittedly volatile temper into the stratosphere, one thing she hated most in the world, and that thing was nepotism.
She hated nepotism . . . fucking hated the word and the meaning behind it. Nepotism sucked. Nepotism could eat shit and die. And the Rule Corporation could eat shit and die with it.
Garrett Rule could eat shit and die, the son-of-a-bitch.
With that thought, refusing to show weakness by using the steps to climb from the pool, she pushed up out of the water at the edge, forcing the last bit of strength from her spent muscles as she stood to her feet in a puddle of water.
Pulling her hair from the band that held it, she squeezed the long ponytail with her fingers, trying to get at least some of the water out, knowing it would only soak the towel she was about to pick up.
A small noise caught her attention in the otherwise quiet poolroom and she snapped her head around, seeing a man leaning negligently against the back of a wrought-iron chair. He stood silently, his arms crossed over his chest, one foot over the other at the ankle, while he conspicuously stared at her.
She should have felt any number of emotions, fear probably being the most appropriate. But as she watched him watching her, in an area of the hotel that was off-limits to guests at this time of the night, she felt only one thing, because she knew. She immediately knew who he was, and the feeling that was bubbling up and taking over her senses wasn’t fear, it was anger. He’d undoubtedly been given the type of key-card that only designated staff were allowed . . . the kind that opened all doors at all times. And the only thing she was feeling now was pure, unmitigated, unadulterated anger at his presence.
As she watched him studying her with narrowed eyes, she took in his appearance with a single, all-encompassing glance. Motherfucker was gorgeous, damn him. Well over six feet of powerful male, with dark hair and dark eyes, stood silently watching her as if he had every damn right.