Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
But even as I try to deny that the idea that living a little dangerously isn’t something I’ve considered, my eyes drift back to the photo of Theron on top of the pile, and my heart skitters in my chest.
Who am I kidding?
Certainly not Grace, and definitely not myself!
ALLIE
My heart is racing as I cruise into the sweeping paved driveway of the beach house, taking in the modern exterior and beautiful exotic planting that helps to conceal the building from the street. It’s standing proud on a large plot, but as I step out of my car, I get a glimpse of the equally impressive house next door.
Who is rich enough to own these beachfront properties? No one I know.
The keys weigh heavy in my hand, and I’m already nervous about going inside. I know the men aren’t here yet. They’ve been provided with an arrival time in a couple of hours, which will give me enough of an opportunity to settle in and familiarize myself with the place. My nerves come from feeling daunted by the luxury. My family home could fit into this place twenty times, and that’s no exaggeration. I’m not a trust fund baby, and I certainly haven’t mixed in the kind of circles that aren’t phased by this level of excess.
Not for the first time, I wish I had a friend with me. If Dawn was here, she’d be squealing and running around like a kid in a candy store. She’d be diving into the pool in her clothes and then sprinting barefoot down to the ocean to wade into the surf. In contrast, I drag my small suitcase up to the front door, twist the key to open the lock and take a deep breath to steady the butterflies that are free flying in my chest cavity.
Seriously. I need to take a chill pill before I have a heart attack. If I can’t even enter an empty house without combusting, how the hell am I going to manage to meet and greet ten gorgeous men who are here to share all their most intimate details with me?
I should have bought some thicker coverage foundation to conceal my blazing inferno cheeks. At least I have my sunglasses to hide behind a little. Last night I put them on in front of the mirror to check out how transparent the lenses are. They’re big enough to hide the top part of my cheeks where I always blush the hardest, and opaque enough to hide my eyes. The alarm begins to beep and I find it concealed behind an ornate mirror and tap in the code to disarm it.
My feet echo on the herringbone hardwood flooring that stretches right through the huge open space. It’s starkly decorated, with plain white walls and minimalist art and furniture, but the floor to ceiling doors that open onto the pool area frame a stretch of warm blue ocean beyond that takes my breath away.
My suitcase and purse are left in a heap by the door as I drift towards the view, mesmerized by the soft ripples of the cerulean water and the occasional appearance of a foam-topped wave. Forget the man-made beauty. This view is worth all the money in the world.
I’ve always been drawn to the ocean. My happiest childhood memories involve days out at the beach. My mom was always mystified as to how I could entertain myself for hours by simply paddling in the shallows, watching the way the water would lap at my ankles and the sand would cover my toes. She’d joke that maybe I was a fish in a past life, or a crab.
Maybe when I’m through with this life, I’ll get a chance to return to the ocean again.
My phone rings in my pocket, jolting me from my reverie. I fumble to pull it from the back of my smart black pants, scanning the screen for caller ID. It’s Kirsty.
“Hey boss.” I think my effort to force brightness into my tone sounds natural. “I just arrived.”
“You can thank me now,” Kirsty says. “It’s a beautiful place isn’t it?”
I touch the glass, reaching for just the tiniest bit of contact with the view. “It is spectacular.”
“I just wanted to let you know that there’s going to be a food delivery arriving soon. The interview subjects have filled out questionnaires with dietary preferences and restrictions so there should be something for everyone. I’ve even included some bottles of wine, beer, and champagne to loosen tongues. You can thank me again.”
“Thank you, Kirsty,” I sing-song, rolling my eyes. My boss would fit perfectly into this property. Her dad’s a hedge fund manager, and she’s wealthy enough to never need to work, but I guess she enjoys forcing her employees into mortifying situations too much to lounge by the pool for a living.