Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I turned back to the door, knowing Fleur had her eye in the peephole so she could watch the whole thing. I opened it and heard her shuffle back in her heels. “How did you know I was home?”
She stilled at the question. “What?”
I’d come home from work and didn’t leave, but why was she so confident in that? Did she sit in a car across the street and wait? Or did she have a more sinister trick up her sleeve? My eyes moved to my phone on the dining table.
The reaction was subtle, but the panic flooded her face, gave away her hand.
I returned to the dining table and grabbed my phone. After navigating into my text thread with her, I realized she had taken my phone and turned on location sharing so she could see my location and I could see hers. I turned it off then looked at her, shocked that someone who wanted me to commit would violate my privacy like that.
And people thought I was paranoid…
That was what I got for not locking my phone. It was such a pain since I was always in a hurry, even to use my image to access the screen. But I activated it now before I tossed it back on the table.
She breathed hard, like she knew she was in the doghouse.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“Derek, wait—”
I hardly ever yelled, but I couldn’t bottle my rage anymore. This woman had been a thorn in my side since the night we met. The sex was incredible and she was the best lay I would probably ever have, but it wasn’t worth this goddamn shitshow. “Now!”
Her eyes welled with tears before she ran.
Seventeen
Emerson
Just as I feared, the following morning, he was back to his old ways.
Quiet. Melancholy. Icy.
Once his left brain was reactivated, all his good qualities disappeared.
It was a shame, because I actually enjoyed talking to him when he was open like he’d been the night before.
It was pretty much impossible to talk to him like this, when he didn’t even say hello to me when he got into the back seat. His coffee was there, in a reusable cup like he requested, and he got to work right away, spending the drive in silence.
I tried not to be disappointed, but it was difficult. I hoped he ended things with that drama queen. She didn’t deserve him, even if she was just some fuck buddy. Unfortunately, Derek was like all other billionaire men, who took lovers because they were attracted to his wealth and power and wanted a piece of it. Who he was on the inside didn’t matter at all. I doubt she knew anything real about him, like he worked for NASA or had read one of his books. I admit he wasn’t the most affectionate person, but he was a good man…if you looked hard enough to notice it.
We arrived at the entrance to the building and walked past the women at the front desk.
“When I’m done with your office in the lab, I’d like to work on your other one.”
Derek ignored what I said and got into the golf cart.
It was unbelievable, like last night didn’t happen at all. That closeness we shared was just a figment of my imagination.
He drove us to the compound, parked his golf cart, and then we entered his office. Jerome and Pierre both looked our way, their eyes on me like they weren’t used to seeing a woman at work.
Derek set his bag on the desk and pulled out his stuff.
“How many employees do you have?”
“Altogether?” He pulled out his laptop and then his paperwork. “Maybe two hundred.”
“Are any of your other engineers women?”
He stilled at the question and turned around. His brown eyes were hostile, like I’d offended him.
I did damage control. “The only reason why I ask is because Jerome and Pierre stare at me like they’ve never seen a woman at work before.”
He cocked an eyebrow slightly before he turned back to his materials. “That’s not why they stare at you.” Once he had his papers assembled and laptop started, he headed to the door to begin to work. “They think you’re hot.” He headed into the lab and moved to a table, immediately forgetting about our conversation like I’d imagined it.
I made some progress in his office before lunchtime. The trash had been removed, and I redid his coffee station. The wood was stained with rings from old cups, and the coffeemaker was probably five years old, so I got him a newer version along with a new table. The couch that was there with moth-eaten and so dusty it couldn’t be cleaned, so I had movers take it away, put down a rug, and then arranged a new seating set, two couches facing each other with a table in between. That way, he could sit or even lie down and take a nap. He didn’t object to the flowers in his penthouse, so I added a vase to his coffee table.