Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“Who is it?” I call out, not knowing who the hell it could be. Maintenance, maybe?
“Your partner in crime.” Liam’s voice comes from the other side of the door and I relax slightly.
“Come in,” I yell out to him, checking my cell phone and seeing a text from Jules. She’s waiting for me. The very thought spreads a feeling of warmth through my chest.
I set the phone down, giving Liam my full attention although I have no idea why the fuck he’s here.
“You seem preoccupied.” Although it’s meant as a statement, it comes out as a question. Before I can even think about it, Liam’s eyes are on my computer screen.
It’s an innocent glance, but he doesn’t need to see her. More importantly, he doesn’t need to know about my new obsession. I’m quick to exit out of the article about Jules. It was about her husband’s passing. How she was dealing with the loss, although the picture they used of her was from years before.
I’ve read dozens of articles about her over the last few days. They’re all the same. Every single one of them ooh and ahh over her. Some articles gush about her charity work. Others are less substantial and concern themselves with her opinion of an event or what clothes she’s wearing. They put her on a pedestal and in such a precarious place that it’s far too easy for her to crash and burn. And that’s just what she did according to the articles that came out after her husband’s death.
The sole fucking image I can’t get out of my head is one of her crying at her husband’s funeral. Maybe they showed mercy by using an older photo for the article I spent the day looking at because on the day she buried him she looked as if she’d died herself.
Inhaling deeply, I will the memory to go away. Wishing I’d never seen that grief on her beautiful face. Wishing I didn’t have a hand in causing it.
“Well now,” Liam says, ignoring my irritation. “Is this—”
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, cutting him off and leaning back in my chair with my shoulders squared. He’s still standing and leaning against the desk casually, but my tone has that arrogant smile on his face vanishing instantly.
He rubs the back of his neck, raising his brow and looking past me out the window as he takes a step back. “I was just wondering if you’d put the final numbers in.”
I clear my throat, feeling like an absolute prick. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.” I rub my shoulders and click on the spreadsheet. “I was just getting ready to put them in.”
“So it’s all finalized?” Liam asks me with a chipper smile, seeming to forget that I’m an asshole just like that.
“So far, so good.” I force a smile and try to shake off the unease flowing through me. I can’t explain the dichotomy of how I think of Jules. I want to take her out, impress her and please her in every way, including showing her off and showing off for her. But I also want this thing between us to be my secret. I don’t want anyone close to me to have an idea of what’s going on.
It’s a design for failure. I can’t help what I want, though.
Liam claps once and says, “Perfect.” He starts to walk away but then looks back at me with an expression asking if he can pry. Curiosity in evident in his eyes. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
“You don’t need anything else?” I ask him, the beating of my heart raging loudly in my chest. I don’t know if I should refuse to answer whatever questions he has about Jules. Everything in me is screaming to deny it all. I can never let anyone know.
“So … Julia Summers?” the prick has the balls to ask me.
Not hiding the irritation by audibly exhaling, I nod in confession. I can’t help that I feel a sense of pride as his cocky smile widens.
“It all makes sense now. I guess I can forgive you for being such an irritable fuck lately.”
“Watch it,” I say under my breath but the smile on my face only encourages him.
“Good for you,” he says as he looks back at the screen, but it’s only a spreadsheet. “Is it serious?” he asks me and I don’t know why. He’s never asked me before about who I’m fucking, or dating for that matter.
When I don’t answer, he adds, “You just seem unusually preoccupied recently.”
I move my seat closer to the desk, stretching my back and then shrug, doing my best to come off casual. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
He waits for a moment, expecting more, but I return to the spreadsheet and open the folder of options on my desk. “I’ll have it done before I leave,” I tell him, giving him a tight smile and ending the conversation.