Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Christ.
Did everyone know Teddy beat me?
"Thought about doing it myself then," he added, making my gaze snap up. "Oops. Guess Smith didn't tell you about me, huh?"
"He said I would likely rather not know."
"He's The Executioner," Quin declared. "And if we're done bullshitting, I have a meeting with Mrs. Ericsson."
I tried not to stiffen at the name, wondering how soon I could change it, how complicated it would be. Paperwork. It would be a lot of paperwork. A day at the DMV.
It would be worth it.
I never wanted to be called by his last name again.
"Jenny," Noah corrected as his hand met my lower back, steering me through his group of co-workers. "Call her Jenny."
"So, Jenny," Quin said from behind his large dark desk. "I heard you told off the senator."
"I, ah, yeah..."
To that, his lips tipped up. "Wish I could have been there for that. Voted against that fuck three elections in a row. If only average citizens knew how corrupt that fuck really is, his career would be over. Anyway, you can wipe that scared puppy look off your face. I'm not giving you the third degree. I like to meet the high-profile clients. But I know Smith has been keeping an eye on you." His gaze lowered to where Noah's hand was on my knee. "Among other things. Are any of us going to end up not dating a client?" he asked, looking at Noah with a head shake.
"Well, what do you expect of workaholics?" Noah shot back. "Besides, Kai didn't end up with a client."
"Don't remind me. You know Jules forgot to restock the printer paper? Jules. Jules forgot," he added as though it was the most preposterous thing in the world. And, well, from what I heard about Jules being a micromanager, I guess that was a fair enough response.
"Give her some slack. Her wedding is coming up."
"Guess you found your date for it too," Quin said with a smile. "Anyway," he added, pushing a file toward me. "I just need your signature on the papers here. Then you guys can head out."
"What?" I asked when Noah led me back out twenty minutes later, his brows furrowed.
"I checked in yesterday. Lincoln said the paperwork pile was still almost toppling."
"And?"
"And that bastard only had five files on his desk," he said, sounding awestruck at the very idea.
"I guess that is why he's the boss," I mused as we decided to forego the car, take a walk down the street toward She's Bean Around.
"Jenny?" Noah asked when he realized I had fallen back a few steps, my gaze fixed toward a side street. "What's the matter?" he asked, his gaze following mine, seeing nothing but the storefronts. "Did you see someone?" he pressed when I said nothing, finding myself suddenly paralyzed, everything within me numb. "Sweetheart?" he asked, moving in front of me, reaching to snag my chin, tilting it up. "Who was it?" he pressed.
A ghost.
A ghost from my past.
The last time I had seen his face was on the most shameful day of my life, my body and mind slow and thick - molasses trying to climb upward, an impossible feat.
He'd been sitting behind a table in a black suit, his face overgrown with at least a week's worth of a beard, his face sunken, his eyes trained on the wood in front of him.
Listening to me lie.
Listening to me save myself by condemning him.
There wasn't a day in my life that I didn't think of him, didn't think of the verdict I heard, the life he must have led behind bars.
It was the constant, ever-present weight on my shoulders I couldn't have shrugged off if I wanted to. But I didn't. I wanted it there, dragging me down into the ground a bit. I deserved that. I deserved worse than that.
"Mallick," Noah guessed, the name making my head snap up, finding his worried gaze on me.
More brown than green in concern, in this light.
"His wife owns Phallus-ophy," he said, the words not quite registering. "The local sex toy shop," he added. "It's down that street. He's probably visiting her at work. Jenny, wait," he called, reaching to try to grab my wrist as I turned, started moving toward the crosswalk. "Maybe think this through," he urged, holding a hand up to a car that laid on its horn as I moved out without really stopping to look.
It was useless though.
I couldn't listen to reason, not at that moment, not knowing that I had never done it.
Apologized.
Begged for his forgiveness.
Even if I didn't deserve it.
I was vaguely aware of a giant penis statue to my side as I walked in the door, the line of strap-ons displayed under a 'Buy one, get one half off' sign.
At the counter ahead, two heads turned, the woman's smile warm and welcoming - the smile any shop employee or owner gave a potential customer.