Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Permission granted,” I say with embarrassing quickness, because who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t want this beautiful man rasping secrets into their ear?
Aiden prowls around me slowly, stopping when we face one another. The hand on my waist has been dragged low, along the small of my back and that’s where it remains now, burning me through my clothes. “Once we worked out the strain in your back…” He leans in and settles his mouth on top of my ear. “We’d work on making the right parts of you nice and sore, wouldn’t we?”
“Aiden,” I breathe, half admonishing, half stunned. I really thought I had a read on this man. He’s a wholesome rule follower who believes the best in people. A man who has a few demons lurking but is innately good at his core. Now we’re throwing a dirty streak into the mix?
Good grief.
“I tried to warn you,” he says, taking my hand and leading me out of Vivant onto the street where bitter Manhattan cold does its best to cool my flaming cheeks. “I’m not always nice.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I remember,” slips out.
His lips twitch while he’s flagging me down a cab. “I was hoping you would.”
At this time of night on the avenue, taxis are in abundance and one slows to a stop at the curb immediately. Aiden hands the man a twenty through the passenger side window, tells him to keep the eventual change and opens the rear door for me. I’m tempted to make an issue out of him paying for my ride home—I’m fine with walking or taking the train—but it’s late, I’m ready to drop and getting to my bed faster sounds like an ideal plan. “Thank you.”
“Hey. You took my mind off the board meeting and saved me from a bourbon hangover tomorrow. It’s the least I can do.” I take a seat in the back and look up at him. “Good night, Stella,” he says, a little hoarse, looking me over top to bottom as if memorizing me. “See you bright and early for the unveiling.”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “I’m definitely not thinking of skipping town or anything.”
“Hey,” he says seriously, making me look up in time to catch his wink. “When in doubt, remember Penguin Chernobyl.”
For the second time tonight, I laugh and he pauses in the act of closing the taxi door, as if waiting for the full sound to play out before finally pushing it shut, leaving us separated by glass. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stands back on the curb, looking so perfectly old-fashioned and debonair in the streetlamp glow, I can barely catch my breath.
And I lose it completely a half mile into the ride when I find the long, slim, black velvet jewelry box in my jacket pocket containing the gold key chain necklace.
6
Aiden
I don’t sleep a damn second all night. Around three am, I give up trying and order two dozen donuts through Postmates. Most of them, I plan on bringing with me this morning to the unveiling of Stella’s window, but I eat three before I’ve even set the box down on the counter.
And I wonder why my tailor always has to make space accommodations in the seats of my pants. This butt is courtesy of baked goods and there’s no getting around it—that fact or my ass. Hell, though, it’s good and sturdy and I carry my own padding with me.
Can’t beat it with a stick.
I pick out a fourth donut—a green and white striped masterpiece with chocolate reindeer bits and pieces—and pace past my eight-foot Douglas fir to my living room window. The reflection of white lights blinking on my tree blur together with those of the city as I look out over the skyline toward Chelsea. Where Stella lives. I didn’t anticipate being this nervous. I should have taken a peek at the window in advance and given her time to make changes, if any were necessary. I’m confident in her. She’s smart. Insightful. She’s punched in early every day since Tuesday and left Vivant late. If the window isn’t a success, it won’t be for lack of trying.
Maybe this trial period was a bad idea. If I’d just hired her without the moratorium, there wouldn’t be so much riding on this reveal. And it was only going to be low key, a few of my managers, some key staff and our social media rep would be there to witness the moment. But on the way home last night, I got a text from my father saying he and Shirley would be outside Vivant at six am for the unveiling.
Stella doesn’t need that pressure. And the last thing I want is them digging into her background and making an issue out of her record. I’m prepared to stand by my decision. I’m prepared to protect her in any way I can, but if the window isn’t a home run, the board will make both of those things as difficult as possible.