Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
The chains and cuffs are put back on, and as they escort Charles out of the conference room, he turns back, braver now that I’m restrained. “Come after me all you fucking want, Stone, but you will be doing this interview. I’m going to wipe my hands clean of you and the trouble your name brings.”
And with that, Charles walks away, having no fucking idea what kind of hell he’s about to rain down over me . . . or her.
3
ARIA
Fuck my actual life.
How is it that my closet is crammed with clothes, yet I still can’t find a top to wear? There are clothes thrown across my bedroom, every color, style, and fabric, but nothing is good enough for the biggest day of my career.
I still can’t believe this is happening. The past week of prep work has been insane. I’ve never put so much dedication and commitment into anything I’ve ever done before. Because in comparison, nothing has ever mattered to me the way this does.
I can’t explain it. This needs to be perfect. It’s my big shot, my one and only opportunity to prove that I have what it takes to be one of the best journalists this country has ever seen. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. In reality, I think it matters because I know something is missing.
The story that had been spun about Stone Blackthorne never sat right with me, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but I will get to the bottom of it, and I will set the story straight. Assuming everything goes off without a hitch today.
I can’t say that I’ve ever walked my ass through the door of a maximum security prison before, but from what I understand, there are a lot of variables. One single odd-smelling fart could set off some ridiculous lockdown, and then I’ll be escorted out without so much as a see you later and no shot at rescheduling the interview. I have too much riding on this. It’s too important that everything goes smoothly, which is why I’ve spent every waking moment preparing for today.
Grabbing a white V-neck silk top from my closet, I hold it up against my body as I settle in front of my full-length mirror. My hair is still a mess of thick, unkempt auburn waves, and yesterday’s mascara is smudged under my eyes, but it could be worse. At least I’m up and getting ready, and as for this cami, it’s going to have to do. If I keep stressing over my wardrobe, I’m going to end up at this interview in nothing but a black thong.
Pulling the top over my head, I settle it into place before tucking the delicate material into the front of my sage green high-waisted tailored pants. It’s cute. Exactly the look I was going for. The V-neck shows off just a touch of cleavage, but not enough for the prison to flag my outfit. Just enough to potentially gain Stone’s attention and keep him talking.
Grabbing the matching sage blazer off its hanger, I pull it on and love the way it fits. It’s everything, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t go out and specifically buy this pantsuit for the occasion. It’s giving sleek business boss bitch vibes, while also saying don’t fuck with me. It’s sexy, but not barred-from-entry sexy. After all, I don’t need to be walking the halls of this prison only to be hit with a cum shower as I pass a bunch of blue-balled inmates.
Turning in the mirror, I check every angle of my body before my gaze rakes over the clock on my nightstand. “Oh fuck,” I mutter to myself, prancing past the mirror and into my small bathroom to start taming my wild hair before I miss the interview entirely.
For the most part, my hair is generally a mess. I have wild auburn curls, but they’ve had so much abuse from my blow-dryer and straightener that my curls are now somewhat awkward waves, but with just the right amount of product and a good wide-tooth comb, they can still look pretty amazing.
After getting my hair under control, I wipe the smudged mascara from beneath my eyes and start fresh on my makeup routine. Then, I’m back in my walk-in closet, slipping into a pair of white sneakers to complete my outfit. I’m not typically a fan of sneakers. I’m a stiletto heel girl all the way, even when my day consists of being on my feet for hours at a time. Who can blame me? I know what I like, and there’s no resisting a good heel. But for today, I have to resist.
The prison has a strict footwear policy, and unfortunately, a pair of stiletto heels in the wrong hands could be a deadly weapon. While I’m all about people expressing themselves in new, creative ways, turning my heels into a bloody mess is where I have to draw the line.