Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
The gate creaks open slowly, revealing a home that takes my breath away.
It reminds me of one of those old medieval estates you see in television shows. The ones that were built like five hundred years ago and have been passed down from generation to generation—that housed kings and queens and dukes and have massive libraries filled with expensive books and paintings that belong in museums.
I didn’t even think houses like this existed in America.
“Kinda small, isn’t it?” I tease.
Orson lets out a hearty laugh and smiles at me in a way that starts my thighs tingling.
“Yeah, you’re right.” He nods. “I probably couldn’t even sell it if I wanted to.”
My heart starts racing as we pull up the drive, which is longer than the street I live on. Or lived on…
There’s no way this is my life now. What could this man even see in me? I’m just one of a thousand girls who would all do anything to be with him. What’s he going to do when he realizes he’s doing all this for a virgin girl who has no idea how to please a man?
I need to come clean before this goes any further. “Listen, Orson—”
“I know, I know,” he interrupts. “You need your things. I’ve sent my assistant to your apartment to pick up everything. He’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Your assistant…”
The car stops, and I look out the window at the enormous manor. Perfect stone, ivy, golden windows gleaming with light like something out of a fairy tale.
“Come on.” He smiles, leaning in. “I’ll give you a tour of the house.”
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. All I can do is watch as he gets out of the car, comes around to my side, and opens the door for me.
There’s something about this man that I can’t quite put my finger on. He’s a gentleman and an animal at the same time. He’s well-mannered but was also ready to pummel Chuck if he kept hitting on me.
I didn’t know men like this existed.
Then again, what do I know about men?
“Come,” he tells me, taking me by the hand. My entire body flushes with warmth as he leads me to the front door. It swings open, and my jaw drops.
Marble floors, wood paneling, chandeliers, renaissance paintings. I can’t even imagine what this single room cost.
“I want to say something witty,” I say as I try to take it all in. “But, wow, Orson. It’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
His words rock me. Walking in these heels is bad enough, but I literally have to brace myself against the door to keep from falling over.
Did he really just say that?
He must be screwing with me. But when I look up and see his gorgeous green eyes beaming down at me, I can see he means it.
“I…”
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll give you a tour.”
Clutching his hand like a little girl, I walk beside him as he shows me the enormous living room, the library, the kitchen, the game room, the morning room (for eating breakfast and enjoying the sunrise), and an actual ballroom for when he wants to host a lavish event. It’s so ornate I could see them hosting the Oscars’ after-party here.
“There’s a pool of course,” he tells me as we pass a wall of windows looking out onto the back lawn. “Several gardens, a driving range, and a hot tub that I’ll have to show you.”
I’m actually trembling now. He’s talking to me like I’ve done something like this before. Like I have experience with these things.
Little does he know, I’ve never even been hit on by a guy, let alone one who could buy the city.
What do I do?
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
Orson chuckles. “You don’t need one.”
My feet stop working. He notices and smirks. He has this unreal way of making me feel small and silly while at the same time acting like the entire universe revolves around me.
“Why don’t I show you your wing of the house?” Before I can respond, he’s leading me down a beautiful candlelit hall. Incredible paintings adorn the walls. I want to stop and admire them, but he has other plans.
He takes me to an elaborate door made from beautiful dark wood. It opens into a bedroom that takes my breath away.
It’s at least five times the size of my entire apartment. There’s a king-sized bed, floor-to-ceiling windows with cream-colored curtains, ornate woodwork everywhere, and the furniture? Well, let’s just say it’s a long way from Ikea.
“Is this big enough for you, princess?” he teases back, twisting a lock of my hair around his finger.
I’m floored, but I look up at him and shake my head. “I’ve been to nicer pay-by-the-hour motels.”
Again, he laughs, and the next thing I know, I’m in his arms. His big, strong, thick arms.