Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Not someone…
Luke Jameson.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
DUCHESS
He texted me good night and good morning for the next month, and I couldn’t believe he kept his word from the night we had phone sex. He touched me, but the man would not sleep with me, keeping up this end of the bargain on a deal I didn’t agree to.
Every time he stopped us from actually having sex, he’d ask me my name right before, reminding me that he wasn’t going to back down. I’d be working at his club for another month until my contract ended. I tried not to think about that, focusing on the way he made me feel instead.
We were spending at least a night or two a week together. Usually, on Friday night, I’d go with him. I was a little taken aback the first time I saw his place. It was better than I imagined it would be. He had good taste for a bachelor, living in a condo on the water. His floor-to-ceiling glass windows made a panoramic view of either the ocean or downtown Miami.
One morning, I forgot my toothbrush in my overnight bag, and he must have noticed. The next time I crashed at his place, there was a pink toothbrush sitting on his bathroom sink that actually had duchess crowns on it. Where the hell he found it was beyond me. I didn’t bring it to his attention. However, it was the nicest gesture any man had ever done for me.
He also started to have things in his house he thought I might like. For example, my Hint water was in his fridge when it wasn’t in there before. Or there would be my favorite snacks he must have picked up on. Not to mention, I said something about his pillows being flat one night and the next time I was there, his pillows were brand new and freshly stuffed.
It was little things like that. They truly meant everything. I didn’t need grand gestures. I was a simple kind of girl despite growing up without wanting for anything. We began behaving kind of like a couple. He’d hold my hand when we went out to dinner or the movies or anytime we were in public together.
Over the past few days, I could see that whatever had been weighing on him was coming to a head. I could see it in his eyes. Something was happening behind the scenes in his life, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
I hated that for him.
I also knew he texted me every night and every morning because he wanted to be the last thing I thought about when I went to sleep and the first thing I thought about when I woke up.
It was working.
He consumed my thoughts.
I looked forward to his texts and laying my head on my pillow to his good nights.
I genuinely missed him when we weren’t together. He made it hard not to.
Our text messages sometimes turned into phone conversations that would go late into the night. We would FaceTime and usually talked about nothing in particular even though he asked me about everything. I still hadn’t disclosed any more information about myself.
On that night, it was nearly three in the morning, and I had yet to receive my nightly text message.
I grew anxious.
Nervous.
I don’t know what came over me, but I drove to his club. It was Tuesday night, and they were open. By the time I made it to his bar, the last few people were walking out. I didn’t see him when I came in, so I asked his GM where he was. He told me in his office.
I knocked on his office door and heard him call out, “Come in.”
I opened the door, and he didn’t look up from his paperwork.
“You didn’t text me good night,” I blurted, catching myself by surprise.
I was turning into this needy chick, and it was scaring the absolute shit out of me. His eyebrows rose before he glanced up at me, caught off guard I was standing in front of him.
“I was worried about you.”
He cocked his head to the side, leaning back in his leather chair. Placing his hand over his mouth, he rubbed his lips back and forth, examining me in a way I’d never seen before.
Something didn’t sit well with me. “I thought you’d be happy to see me. When he didn’t answer fast enough, I suddenly felt too exposed. Falling back on default of how I was made, I sassed, “Or you could just tell me to go fuck off.”
In one breath, he stated, “It’s been a day.”
“I can see that. Do you want me to go kick someone’s ass for you?”
“Not tonight.”
Feeling much more concerned by his cold demeanor, I questioned, “What happened?”
“Life happened.”
“That’s pretty vague. I’m going to need more context.”