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)
“Like someone else we know,” I reply as I stare at the painting too.
“Yeah, but he’s a hot, rich, red flag.”
“Worse. A hot, rich, red carpet.”
She laughs out loud again and I do too.
I love Helene, she always makes everything seem fun.
“I’m just saying,” she continues as we keep wandering, “I think you should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he does like you and sex is his way of introducing some sort of contact between the two of you.”
“No.” I sigh. “I’ve already slept with him, I already know that I really like him. I can’t be his booty call. It will break me.”
“So what do you want from him?”
“Effort.”
“Like how?”
“Like ask me how my day was, go on a dinner date, take me dancing. Call me to say good night. Send me peonies, damn it, he can’t even stand here and talk to me without insinuating dirty talk.” I shrug. “All I know is that I haven’t broken up with a nice guy to be used for sex. I’m at an age where I want more.”
“You want the fairy tale,” she murmurs, unimpressed.
“Yeah, and damn it, I deserve it. I’m a good catch, and if he doesn’t see that then I’m not lowering my standards just to spend one night with him. I’ve no interest in fucking around with bad boys.”
“Fine.” She widens her eyes. “More for me, I guess.” We keep wandering through the exhibition and she glances over to me. “So are you going to think about him all night?”
“Of course I am.”
PHILIPPE
I rub my hands together to try and warm them up, the morning is fresh on the marina. I glance at my watch as I stand with the two others on shift, we’ll be leaving soon.
“Hi.” Angelo walks over. “Cold morning.”
“Freezing.” I smile. Angelo’s a guard from a few yachts down. We all know each other and chat while we fill in time.
“I heard about your bonuses.” He lights a cigarette. “Is it true?”
“What do you mean?” I glance back at the Prescott yacht, still no sign.
“Word on the street is that your team got a three-hundred-thousand bonus last month. Each.” He widens his eyes. “Surely not.”
I chuckle. “Who told you that?” We actually got more, not that I’d ever tell.
“Seriously, man.” He blows a thin stream of smoke into the air. “I need you to get me a job. My boss is a fucking tight-ass. I get a miserable hourly rate with no extras.”
“Our team is full.” I shrug, I get hit up for jobs on the hour by every guard we meet. “Everyone wants to be on Prescott’s team, you’ll need to get in line. Nobody in their right mind would ever give up this gig.”
And why would they, we travel the world, our food and accommodation are included, and we get paid a criminal amount of money.
“Who has to die for me to get a job?” he jokes.
“Seriously.” I laugh. “It’s probably the only way.”
“That’s it,” a woman screams from the deck of a yacht down the marina. “I’ve had it.”
We all glance over to the York yacht. “At it again.”
More yelling, more fighting.
“Do they even like each other?” Angelo frowns as we watch on.
“I heard they’re getting married.” Stefan shrugs.
“Surely not. He can’t marry her.”
From the corner of my eye I catch sight of Edward walking out onto the deck.
“Got to go,” I tell Angelo.
“Get me a job,” he calls as he walks back to his post.
We meet Edward at the gangplank. “Morning, boss.”
“Morning.” He nods and walks past us; we fall in and walk behind him toward the waiting car.
More fighting echoes across the marina.
“I’m leaving,” she screams.
Edward gives the yacht the side eye. “Please. I beg of you.”
We chuckle as we walk.
“I have no idea what to do with you,” he calls.
“Tie her to the anchor,” Edward mutters.
We laugh again and arrive at the car and I open the back door of the Bentley. “Our flight to Zurich is on schedule, sir.”
He gets into the car and I close the door behind him.
Another day, another country….
ALORA
Market night is always crazy, but this one is intense.
“My god,” Helene whispers as I wrap a vase. “Why are they all drinking so much, we’re going to run out of wine at this rate.”
“There’s three more boxes in my office.”
“They’re hot.”
“So go put them on ice.” I fake a smile to the customer. “Thank you so much for coming.” I pass her the paper bag. “Enjoy your vase.”
“Oh, I will.” She smiles.
In true market night fashion, this has been a sell-out event. We have every casual staff member working and still we can’t keep up.
Helene begins hauling wine out of the office and dumping it in ice buckets. “We’re nearly out of cheese as well,” she whispers. “This isn’t a restaurant, fuckers.”