Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Thirty minutes later we pull into Monaco and then the car heads down to the marina in Monte Carlo.
I crane my neck as I look around, I’m confused.
“Ahh.” I think out loud. “I thought we were going to Mr. Prescott’s office?”
“Mr. Prescott is working from his yacht today.”
“His yacht?” My eyes widen as the car pulls into the dock. I look out the window at a huge black superyacht, five stories tall.
Shit, shit, shit.
This is supposed to be a work meeting, yachting around Monte Carlo with a man in a relationship is not a good look.
I begin to sweat bullets, Pascal is going to freak, that’s if I survive his princess having me assassinated by one of her bouncers.
Fucking hell.
Oh god, I knew this was a bad idea.
The car door opens and I gingerly climb out, I look up at the yacht and suddenly feel very insignificant. I pull down my black blazer over my pantsuit, which was perfect for an office, but yet ridiculous for a yacht. At least I’m wearing red lipstick, I guess.
I follow the two men up the dock and we walk over the gangplank. “This way,” the man says. I follow him onto the yacht and as I look around my knees nearly buckle out from under me.
What the hell?
Timber parquetry floors and big, plush rugs, the most beautiful couches I have ever seen. A huge bar stocked with more alcohol than an actual bar. Through the glass doors there’s a huge deck and swimming pool.
A fucking swimming pool….
This looks like a mansion of epic proportions, not a fucking boat. A grand staircase is in the center leading up to the next level.
“Would you like to take the stairs or the elevator?” the man asks me.
There’s an elevator?
“Um….” I’m like a deer in the headlights. “Stairs,” I squeak.
“This way.” I follow him up the flight of stairs and we get to the next level.
I stop still on the spot in shock.
Floor-to-ceiling windows, a giant dining table with huge vases of fresh flowers on it, giant chandeliers hanging overhead. I count the leather chairs, fifteen each side and one each end. A thirty-two-place dining table…. Are you kidding me right now?
I have no words, none.
We go up to the next level and this floor is different, it’s divided with a wall. One end has a beautiful casual living area and we walk through to the other end and there’s a huge conference room with a big board table with numerous chairs around it, again with the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Mr. Prescott is in his office.”
A big black door comes into view and he knocks.
“Come in.”
He opens the door and sitting behind a big black grand desk is Edward, he looks up from his computer and smiles. “Good afternoon, Miss Sorenson.”
“Hi.” I fake a smile; this isn’t awkward at all.
“Thank you,” he tells the driver. “We may leave port now.”
“Yes, sir.” The man leaves us alone and closes the office door behind us.
“Leave port?” I frown.
“Yes,” he says casually as he stands and goes to the bar. “What would you like to drink?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, seeing I’m leaving port with a taken man and I have a boyfriend, ho juice sounds good. “I’ll have a Diet Coke please.”
“Take a seat.” He smiles. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I awkwardly sit down at his desk as I look around, there is nothing remotely comfortable about being here. “I thought we were meeting in your office?”
“We are in my office.” He passes me my Diet Coke and sits back down behind his desk; he has a glass of amber liquid with ice in a crystal tumbler.
“This is your office?”
“Uh-huh.” He takes a sip as his eyes hold mine. “One of them, I have many.”
“Just how rich are you?” I frown as I look around.
“I do okay.” A trace of a smile crosses his face as he leans back in his chair.
“Your version of okay and my okay are not the same okay.”
“Okay.” He does smile this time; his eyes linger on my face. “You look lovely.”
My fingers tighten around my handbag on my lap. “Thanks.”
He’s wearing a navy suit and a cream shirt; his dark hair has a bit of a curl to it and that damn square jaw is here to taunt me. But it’s the big blue eyes that steal my breath. There’s no denying he’s a beautiful-looking man.
“So….” He traces circles with his finger on the desk. “Where shall we start?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure.”
“Hmm.” He rolls his lips as he watches me and I would pay good money right now to be able to read his mind. “Tell me about your situation.”
“My situation?” I frown.
“Yes. If I’m going to help you grow your business, I need to know everything.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes hold his. If you must know everything I think I’m in the middle of a midlife crisis.