Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
He leans down, dropping his voice so only I can hear. "I'll pay whatever you ask, whenever you ask."
There's something about the way he says it—not a hint of sarcasm, no obvious flex, just this quiet promise. I'm not used to men meaning what they say. Especially not men who could bench press a small car.
I break eye contact first, but only because if I hold that stare for one more second, I'm going to say something embarrassing, like "please let me climb you like a rock wall." I'm not entirely convinced he would hate hearing it, which is part of the problem.
I don't make a habit of getting involved with my brother's friends. I mean, I flirt, but who doesn't mess with their brother's friends just to annoy the hell out of said brothers? It's basically a biological imperative.
And in my world, we don't just perform on stage. We perform every damn time we're in front of someone with a checkbook and the tiniest interest in ballet. Ballet isn't cheap, and donors pay the bills. But this is different. I'm not trying to annoy Austin or Sidney. I'm not trying to secure a donation for the Company, either. I just want to know what it feels like to be wanted by Harlan, simply because it's him.
He cocks his head, studying me, and I get the sense he's waiting for me to make a move. Like this is chess, and he's the kind of guy who always plays defense. For the first time in a long time, I want to make a move.
I want it so badly, it's like I can already feel his hands on my body. I can taste him on my lips, feel his weight pinning me. And I want the reality so badly I'm ready to crawl out of my own damn skin.
So I do what I always do when I'm about to do something stupid: I run.
"I should, uh, find Sidney," I blurt, even though I know damn well where he is. "And make sure he's not getting arrested for public indecency."
I turn to go, but Harlan catches my wrist, his touch gentle but unyielding. "Ballerina," he says.
I glance back at him, my heart hammering.
"I will be seeing you again."
It's not a question or a warning, just a simple statement of fact. The sun will rise, the earth will rotate, and Harlan Ward will get what he wants.
"I…" I gulp and then nod. "Okay."
Chapter One
Harlan
Now
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," my brother, Briggs, says as soon as I step through the front doors of the lodge, stomping snow from my boots. He strides across the massive great room toward me, a grin plastered across his face.
"Said I'd be here today, didn't I?" I grunt, dropping my bag beside a giant stone fireplace.
"Yeah, but we're talking about you, motherfucker." He tips his bottle in my direction. "We both know you'd rather have a lobotomy than be here right now."
He isn't wrong. Spending another weekend in Aspen, pretending I give a shit about skiing, sounds about as fun as...well, a lobotomy. But Hattie, our baby sister, is getting married in a week, and I guess our family is making a tradition of going skiing instead of having bachelor and bachelorette parties. Don't ask me why. Hattie can't ski to save her life.
I'm a card-carrying member of the asshole club… but I will never be a big enough asshole to disappoint Hattie.
Besides, who the fuck else is going to threaten to rip Sidney's balls out through his throat if he makes her cry, if not me? No one, that's who.
And since Sophie Hawkes is going to be here this weekend, well, hell itself couldn't keep me away.
"Where is everyone?" I ask, glancing around the great room. Of course, Sidney rented out the entire resort for the weekend just to make my sister happy. There are at least three chandeliers overhead, with five fireplaces strategically placed around the massive room. An entire arena could fit in the damn place. But aside from a couple of Sidney's teammates playing air hockey in the corner, the common area is mostly empty.
"Getting ready for dinner." Briggs glances at the ornate clock hanging over the doors. "We're meeting up in thirty at the restaurant downstairs."
Fuck. Maybe I can—
"And Hattie said you aren't allowed to skip it."
Goddammit. Guess I need to find my room and change, then.
"Here." Briggs pulls a key card from his pocket, holding it out to me. "I already checked you in. Figured you'd be late if you made it today at all."
"Your faith in me is so inspiring," I mutter, pocketing the card. I've never missed anything that mattered to Hattie. Ever.
Briggs just grins in response. "I know you, Harlan. Socializing is your worst nightmare." He chuckles. "How the fuck you ended up as captain of the Knights when you literally hate people is beyond me."