Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 48567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“Try me.”
“Sample, more like it,” he whispers and forces a half-assed smile.
“Better?”
“You’re like a marble statue.” Please don’t fire me.
“Just, can you, try?”
“If I smile, I’ll scare them,” he says under his breath.
“Your smile can’t be that creepy.” We both pause and stand in front of the paparazzi, he rests his hand on my hip pulling me against his side. His smile still looks forced, covered up actually.
I grip his hand rather than his elbow and hold it tight, then pull away from him and do a little twirl like we’re dancing our way down to the end.
It’s all I have.
He looks completely away from the paparazzi and follows me.
And then he smiles.
“What was that?”
“Dancing.” I wink.
“Twirling.”
His smile is adorable, I never thought I’d see the day and I’ve been with him for mere 2 days.
He pulls me back against him, then twirls me again. The press goes wild, cameras are flashing everywhere as we near the end of the carpet.
It was a good run.
Despite him not smiling until the end, I got my job done, so why am I sad?
I’m not paying attention and suddenly trip over my dress and go flying forward, but the minute I think I’m about to hit the final stair, his hand grabs me and pulls me back into him, then dips me low. He doesn’t kiss me, but slowly leans forward and whispers with those amazing full lips and a low growl, “You should really watch where you’re going.”
I gulp.
“N-noted.”
His eyes are full of anger at first, or maybe fear? And then he abruptly pulls me to my feet and grabs my hand as we walk into the venue.
I can barely keep up with him in my heels.
Once we stop at the front door, he reaches for a glass of champagne, hands it to me, and grabs two more.
“Don’t make enemies.”
I’m pretty sure that’s the last time I’ll see him tonight before I hang my head and make the decision to drink a glass of champagne and then make the trek home. I don’t belong in this world, and hey at least I have a home, and the champagne tastes incredible.
The way he marches off, you’d think I had the plague or something.
I finish my champagne in no time and reach for another feeling extremely awkward, just standing there like an idiot.
Positives? I have an apartment now.
A beautiful dress.
A grumpy boss? Yes, but he takes care of me well.
I mean, I’m only two days in and he hasn’t thrown a pen at me—yet. I’m just about to finally go when a tall, gorgeous man starts weaving his way through the crowds.
Damn.
He turns to me, dimples on full display, and flashes me a smile
Chapter 9
Chasing Her
ELI
I can’t be next to her. Literally cannot without wanting to bite the fuck out of her skin and then use the same word fuck in another way.
Sweaty bodies.
Skin pressed against skin.
Hydration.
Only to do it again.
I’m smiling, but at least when she’s not next to me, when I can’t smell her, my fangs retract enough for me to actually do my job. I didn’t predict this and now I’m trying like Hell to keep it together.
Did I abandon her? Absolutely.
Was it necessary? One hundred percent.
She’ll either go to the corner and sulk or she’ll leave and now that her job is done—selling us in front of the press—I can at least have a slight reprieve and try to calm down the damn pulsing in my system.
I swear it feels like I have a heartbeat in my teeth right now, just pulsing, begging, needing.
It’s beyond want at this point, and I know she thinks I’m being a giant ass, I can practically feel her shooting laser beams in my direction. I glance over while grabbing a glass of champagne and watch her hang her head like she’s totally out of place and has no clue where to go, when Xavier Nickel from Orange Tech approaches her.
He's worth billions, good looking, was featured in Forbes and owns a fortune five hundred company—publicly traded just like mine.
He’s a sort of nemesis, whatever I do, he does, except I just do it better.
He runs a hand through his unnecessarily thick blond hair and smiles down at her, ah he busted out the dimples.
She looks up at him with stars in her eyes.
I toss back all the champagne in my glass, exchange it for another and aggressively walk in their direction just as she loops her arm through his and they go to a table.
I follow them like I’m hunting.
She’s throwing her head back and laughing—a real laugh, and if he leans in one more time and caresses her neck like he has a right to, I’m going to bite his head off.
Quite literally.
Bet his blood even tastes good—damn it!
What the hell is wrong with me?