Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
But he didn’t, so...
“What’s the not-simple answer?”
He leans back in the chair, and the air around us changes. Once still and calm, it now vibrates with a brooding kind of tension that’s reflected in the rigid set of his shoulders. His gorgeous face, almost always a perfectly expressionless mask, now has something to reveal, with the way his lips tighten, even if it’s just a fraction.
The silence stretches between us, and my courage starts to falter. I begin to wonder if I’ve foolishly treaded in dangerous waters for no reason. But before I can tell him to just forget it—
“My rejection has nothing to do with you.”
I feel like I’ve just become the receiving end of the preter version of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’—
“At that time, I was in love with someone else.”
—and I’m unhappy to realize I’m absolutely right.
Chapter Three
THE STUNT HARNESS DIGS into my ribs as I swing through the air, but I barely notice. This is the part I love the most about my job, with gravity becoming optional as the world blurs into pure motion. Twenty feet up, cables singing, my body knows exactly what to do even if my brain is still processing everything that happened three days ago.
“Cut! Perfect! That’s a wrap on the warehouse sequence!”
The riggers lower me down slowly, and I’m already unhooking myself before my feet fully touch the ground. Around me, the crew bustles with the organized chaos of a film set switching between setups. Lights being repositioned, cameras rolling to new marks, the constant dance I’ve been part of since I was eighteen and hired entirely on the strength of my background in martial arts.
”Over here, Sam!” Anastasia waves me over from where she’s waiting with our packed lunches. My roommate is seated with her legs tucked on a foldable chair, and even in jeans and a ratty hoodie, she looks like a fairytale princess with her long blond hair, soft blue eyes, and rosy complexion.
“How did I do?”
Anastasia flashes a thumbs-up sign, and I allow myself a quick grin while peeling off my gloves.
“That looks bad,” the other girl says with a wince when she notices the fresh rope burns.
“It will heal,” I assure her while reaching for my lunch, and oooh.
I take an appreciative sniff, and my heart sings. They say the way to a man’s heart is through a stomach, but mine’s got the same address, and it’s #1 Philly Cheese Sandwich Lane, Homemade Fries City, Zip Code: Garlic Parmesan Dip.
Thank You, God, for giving me a hearth goddess for a roommate.
Anastasia laughs when she sees me closing my eyes in bliss at the first bite. “You’re too easy to please.”
I can’t answer her, presently occupied as I am with a lot of chomping.
“Or should I use the past tense now—”
Flying without wings burns a lot of calories—
“Since you’ve finally found someone that meets your exceptionally high standards when it comes to dating?”
And that means I have every right to eat more than thrice a day—wait a minute, did Anastasia just say what?
I lower my sandwich just as Anastasia shows me her phone. “You’re trending, Sam.”
“What do you mean—” My words stutter to a stop when I catch a glimpse of the headlines.
Mystery Woman Flees Leopard King, Walks Into Post.
How in the world did they—
“And look—” Anastasia speed-scrolls before showing me another post. “Someone even made a gif of you stumbling—”
I can’t take it anymore, and my friend laughs when I snatch the phone out of her hand to take a closer look, and ugh.
It really is me in full HD glory and playing out my graceful escape attempt on endless loop. The comments range from sympathetic to savage, with a disturbing number of people asking why anyone would run from the Leopard King.
“This is insane,” I groan.
“Au contraire—”
I throw her a suspicious look. “Since when do you speak French?”
“Since I realize I’m about to have an honorary brother-in-law—” Anastasia takes her phone back to show me another post. “And I was saying, this is hilarious—”
A strangled gasp escapes me when I realize there’s already fanfic written about us, with thousands of reads...and counting!
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she assures me cheerfully. “There’s this other one I found...”
I almost gag when her next post shows another made-up story, this time about me supposedly playing hard to get as a seduction strategy.
I throw my hands up in surrender. “Can we talk about something else? Anything but that? Please?”
“Sure thing.” But after pocketing her phone, Anastasia crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a look that makes me feel like squirming. Why do I suddenly feel like I’m about to be grilled by a detective for a crime I didn’t commit?
“How come you never told me you know the Leopard King?”
I stand corrected: it’s a crime I did commit, but unknowingly.