Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” he replies, chest puffing with pride. “I’m Dr. Lansing now. You know, I have a lot of connections in London. Some of my uni mates live there now. I could make some calls if you want.”
I take another sip of my sweet drink. I wish Stephen had put some ice in the mugs. It’s too warm in this cramped office, even though the temperature must be dropping outside.
“That’s okay, but thank you.” I refuse his offer. “I have plans to open my own gallery in Charleston. I won’t have time to travel to London.”
“There’s no need to be coy.” His voice drops deeper, and I don’t trust the slightly husky edge to his words. “I’m happy to help you out.”
My mug is over half-empty now, thank goodness. I’m ready to leave. I don’t like how pushy he’s being, even if he has helped me a lot today.
“Like I said, I don’t have the time. But I appreciate the offer.”
My skin is getting sticky with perspiration. I really should step outside sooner rather than later.
“Are you okay?” Stephen asks, brow furrowed with concern.
Heat rolls beneath the surface of my skin in a nauseating wave.
“Actually, I’m feeling a little lightheaded,” I admit. “I need some fresh air.”
“Drink some more. It’ll cool you down. And it’s mostly soda. The sugar should help.”
I suppose I haven’t eaten enough tonight, since this meeting is running far later than planned. Sugary soda isn’t going to help all that much, but I drain the last of my drink anyway. I’m so hot, and I need to get outside into the cooler night air.
“Stay for a little while longer,” he cajoles. “We should talk more about your career.”
He slides out of focus for a second.
I’m more than just lightheaded. I’m getting dizzy.
I wish I could call Dane to come pick me up.
I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath, willing the room to stop spinning.
“You should let me make those London calls.” Stephen is still talking to me, but his voice sounds oddly far away. “I really can help you out.”
His hand is on my knee.
What the hell?
My eyes snap open, and I surge to my feet.
The world tilts, and Stephen catches my elbow to steady me.
“Whoa.” He laughs. “Steady on. How much of a lightweight are you? I knew you Americans can’t hold your drink, but this is ridiculous.”
I shake my head. “You said it was just a splash. I saw you…” My tongue is thick in my mouth. “I saw you pour it.”
I’m on the couch again. Stephen’s leg is pressed against mine. He brushes his hand over my hot cheek and tucks my hair behind my ear.
“You really are beautiful,” he says. “And so talented. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“I’m with Dane.” My fierce declaration comes out soft and slurred. “Get away from me.”
His hand is on my thigh. “Your boyfriend doesn’t have to know. This is our secret, right? You agreed.”
I shake my head again, and the room spins. “I didn’t. Just a drink.”
“You’re talented, but you won’t get ahead in your career without the right connections. I’m a useful person to know. We should have a good relationship.”
“No.” It’s all I can manage when everything is swirling around me.
Cool air hits my chest.
“You’re so flushed,” Stephen says as he parts another button on my blouse.
I try to bat his hands away, but he easily brushes me off.
“Stop.” It’s little more than a slurred whisper.
My stomach churns, heightening my nausea.
The cool air caressing my bare stomach is a blissful relief from the heat that’s surging beneath my skin. I groan at the sweet reprieve, and my muscles relax.
“That’s better,” Stephen praises. “I knew you could be friendly. There’s no need to be so uptight.”
Tears wet my lashes, blurring the spinning world.
Dane. I want Dane.
The hands that are touching me are all wrong. The fingers are slenderer, the palms slick and clammy. He gropes at me without finesse, exploring my body for his own pleasure rather than mine.
My eyes slide closed, and my low moan of despair fills the cramped office.
24
DANE
The sign on the gallery door is flipped to closed, but the door is unlocked. Abigail must still be here with Stephen.
Irritation tightens my jaw. She was supposed to return to the penthouse nearly twenty minutes ago. I’ve tried to give her space to work—I have to respect her independence—but I can’t wait any longer.
I should’ve given her a damn phone so I can reach her whenever I want.
Or I should’ve just accompanied her to her meeting at the gallery. I should’ve stayed by her side, where I can watch over her. I should keep her on a leash so that she’s never out of my sight.
I shake my head sharply and push open the door. She won’t thank me if I burst into her meeting like an enraged, possessive brute.