Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
He looks away, scowling at thin air. “Momentary lapse in judgment.”
“And she just left?” Dec didn’t leave her, she left him?
“Yes.”
He’s bitter, and that doesn’t sit well, which is ironic coming from me, I know. But, again, she left him. “What will happen if she comes back?”
“Then I get my divorce quicker.”
“So you want that. A divorce?”
He frowns. “Yes, I want a divorce.” Irritation slips into his tone. “She’s dead to me.”
Dead. Like his father is to him. And yet I know as well as the next person that there’s a fine line between love and hate. He doesn’t truly hate his father. And I suspect he doesn’t truly hate his wife.
I wonder again, with annoying curiosity, what happened between them and why he’s so bitter. Maybe it was simply because she left him. But, again, why would she? He’s handsome, successful.
Cold.
Could that have been why? Mr. Serious was too serious? And yet I’ve seen Dec’s many sides. He’s serious, yes, but he’s also light, sensitive, funny, warm, and a whole load of other things. “What’s her name?”
“Chelsea.”
Just a one-word answer, which is fine because it was a closed question, but something tells me I wouldn’t get more out of him if I tried. I hate the fierce curiosity in me. I also hate the idea that someone could come along—his wife—and burst my bubble. Like I said, there’s a very fine line between love and hate, and I’m worried I’m looking at it.
“I need to talk to you about something,” Dec pushes his tea away, his persona not as light and easy as it was before we touched on his wife.
A man walks in, bringing a gust of cold air with him, and I shiver in my chair. Or could that be Dec’s declaration that he wants to talk about something? Because everyone knows when someone says that, the chances are you’re not going to like the topic. “What?” I ask, obviously cautious.
“Your face.”
“My face is fine,” I try not to sound tired, and I know I’ve failed when Dec flashes me a look somewhere between warning and disbelief.
“You didn’t do it at work, Camryn.”
“What?”
“I ran into Thomas.”
I withdraw. “You ran into my boss, and one of the things you talked to him about, taking into consideration the gala was the first time you met him, was my face?” I inhale, something coming to me. “The gala wasn’t the first time you met Thomas, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. How did you injure your face?”
“I was mugged, attacked, whatever you want to call it.” I grit the words out, and Dec shifts in his chair, his neck tilting mildly, as if he’s subtly cricking it. “I didn’t say because I knew I was stupid for walking home late when the streets were quiet, and I didn’t want you to fuss.”
“Fuss?”
“Be mad with me.”
“I am mad.”
“I’m okay. It’s done, I won’t do it again, and now we need to talk about how you know Thomas.”
“I’m buying his company.”
I sit back sharply, like an arrow through my stomach has pinned me to the back of my chair. “What?”
“It’s not a done deal yet.”
“Yet?”
“We’re still in negotiations.”
I stare at Dec across the table, my mind blank, as a waitress appears beside us, smiling, two plates in her hands as she looks between us. “The Prawn and Marie Rose?”
I rise from my chair abruptly and pace across the café, pulling my coat off the hook. “Camryn,” Dec calls, the sound of his chair legs scrapping the wooden floor screaming. “Wait.”
I hurry out, swinging on my coat. He’s buying the company? He’s buying the fucking company I work for, and he chose to hide it from me?
“Camryn, come on.”
I throw my bag onto my shoulder and walk with purpose up the street.
“Camryn.” His feet crunching into the snow get louder as he gains on me, and I stop and swing around, finding him struggling to get his coat on as he jogs. “Do not follow me,” I snap, and he halts and backs up immediately, surrendering, shaking his head on a loud exhale.
“Cam—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Let me exp—”
“Sir, your bill!”
I look past Dec, seeing the young girl from the café waving a piece of paper. “Fuck it,” he snaps, reversing his steps. “Wait there.”
As soon as he disappears into the café, I walk on, and I don’t stop until I make it back to my office, turning right out of the elevator and making a beeline for Thomas’s office, not bothering knocking, barging in, still in my coat and boots. “You’re selling the company?”
With his phone at his ear, he stills in his seat, pure dread engulfing him. “I’ll call you back,” he says, hanging up.
“What’s going on, Thomas?”
“How long have you been seeing Dec Ellis?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“When you’re feeding him information that’s driving down the value of my company, it’s my business, Camryn.”