Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
"Live, laugh, love?"
He looks at me, confused.
"It's a poster people put on their kitchen wall. My sister has one. I call it a 'mom quote.'"
"Is she a mother?"
"Not yet," I say. "She and her wife are looking for a donor. They want to know the guy. It's complicated."
"Just hope she doesn't ask Liam."
"She'd hate him."
He smiles. "A mom quote. I suppose it is. It's cliché, but it's true. It's easy to lose yourself in pursuit of money."
"You did all right."
"My father's company," he says. "I never loved the work, but I wanted to make him proud. Now, Harrison… he forged his own path. I'm proud of him."
"Are you going to tell me money won't make me happy?"
"I suspect you know that already."
I nod.
"But no one wants to hear a rich man say money isn't everything. It's like hearing a beautiful woman say looks don't matter."
He means me. My cheeks flush, even though it's not true. I'm cute, sure, but I'm not beautiful.
My hips are too wide. My chest is too small. My nose is too long.
I don't mind my unique features. I appreciate the hints of blue and green in my grey eyes. I appreciate the sharp angle of my chin. Hell, I even appreciate the way my ample ass fills out a pair of jeans.
I don't care I'm not a New York Ten.
But I'm aware of it.
"Not a fan of compliments?" he asks.
"Liam enjoys them enough for both of us."
He smiles. "You two are perfect for each other. You both hide behind your wit, but you have this sincerity to your eyes."
"My eyeliner isn't obscuring it?"
"The eyeliner gives you away."
"It does?"
He nods. "You want the world to know you don't want to belong."
"Is it the hair?"
"Isn't that part of it?"
"Not exactly."
"Liam hides his rebellion," he says.
"What do you mean?"
"The tattoos." He chuckles. "Does he think I don't know?"
"Probably."
"It's good for boys to have secrets. Especially from their fathers. I know I'm not his father, but…"
"He looks up to you," I say. "Your approval means a lot to him, even if he wouldn't admit it."
"You too."
The door on the next floor opens. Footsteps move down the stairs. "Briar, baby, I'm pretty sure Harrison wants you to give him a lap dance."
"Pass. No offense, Harrison," I say.
"Have you heard what he's offering?" Liam asks.
"You'd approve?" I ask.
"Maybe I'm into cuckolding."
"Since when?"
"Or maybe I'm green with envy and I need to show him you're mine." He rushes to me. Takes my hands. Pulls me into his arms.
His lips find mine.
His kiss is hard and deep, hungry for some part of me, something I don't usually give.
Fuck, he tastes good. Like Liam and mint. Did he brush his teeth upstairs? Did he get ready for this?
When he pulls back, I'm dizzy.
"Sorry, Preston, but we gotta go." He nods. "I gotta undo the damage you've wrecked."
Preston chuckles. "I'll see you Friday?"
"Fuck yeah." Liam slides his arm around my waist. "You ready, baby? Or you need something?"
"My purse." I grab it. "And the bathroom."
Preston gives directions.
Liam insists he'll call a car.
They whisper to each other as I walk down the hallway.
Is Preston offering Liam fatherly wisdom?
Or is it something else?
Liam keeps up his playboy smile until we're in a car, heading back to his penthouse apartment.
He rests his head on the door, loosens his tie, closes his eyes. "Fuck, what time is it?"
"You're wearing a watch."
He brings his wrist to his eyeline. "That was only two hours?"
"Was it that exhausting?"
"Aren't you tired? Pretending you like me for two solid hours?"
"It took a lot."
He lets out a low yawn. Stretches his arms over his head. "You want to stop for coffee? Cold brew happy hour. Two bucks for twenty-four ounces."
"And you really need to save."
"Never too rich for a good deal."
"If you want. You know I—"
"Will drink cold brew but prefer iced tea."
"Yeah."
Liam shakes his head. "I'll get something at home."
"Are you okay?"
His eyes go to the window. "No."
"Something Harrison said?"
"This thing with Simon and Vanessa. It's going to be a headache."
"And you'll be stuck at the house."
"Exactly."
And he hates being there now. Not that he'll admit it. I want to ask him. I want to comfort him. I want this to feel less complicated. "We can spend the weekend in the pool."
He perks up. Just barely, but he does. "You're bringing a black bikini?"
"If I have one."
He pulls out his cell. Brandishes his text chain with Bree. "Your new pj's are already at the apartment."
"That was fast."
"Money talks." He taps a reply to her. "What's your bra size?"
"None of your business."
"She needs it," he says.
"She has it."
He shakes his head. Shows me the phone. It says it, right there.
Bree: Does Ms. West have her bra size handy? I can send a few options if she isn't sure.
"She sent me home with new bras," I say. "This is a plant."