Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I rub the back of my neck. “Those are… pretty good points,” I say.
Her smile is crooked. “Yeah. I had a lot of time to think of them when Vaughn was always choosing work over me, I guess.”
And the cut goes deeper.
Fuck.
Not only am I being an asshole, I’m betraying her trust in almost exactly the same way as Vaughn. Am I even any different than that prick if I follow through with this?
“Anyway,” she says, laughing a little, like she’s embarrassed for speaking her mind so bluntly. “I’m not trying to guilt trip you or anything. I don’t expect you to change your life for me. I haven’t even been willing to stop calling this thing between us pretend, right? Who am I to talk about what’s fair or right?”
I hang my head. I want to tell her the truth right then. I want to do it so fucking badly, but I at least need to talk to Nolan first. I need to come up with some other plan to save our asses if I’m going to tell Charli the truth and get the book pulled from Landmark’s hands.
I make the decision at that moment. It’s tearing me up too much to keep moving forward with this plan of mine. Nolan will just have to forgive me, because I’m going to tell Charli as soon as I can. I’ll tell her that Vaughn screwed up the business registration on the app and lost any hope of stealing her book. I’ll even tell her what I was planning to do, because I want her to know everything when I ask her to forgive me for not telling her right away.
I’d tell her right now, but I owe it to Nolan to at least tell him first. I’ll meet with him first thing in the morning and break the news. Then I’ll find Charli and put it all in the open.
“You’re not guilt tripping me,” I say. “Don’t apologize. And, hey, I was thinking. I read those first two chapters of your manuscript at the convention, but I never got to finish the book. Do you think I could read the rest of it?”
She’s chewing a bite of her sandwich and freezes, mouth full and eyes wide. “What?” She gulps down the bite. “Um, I mean, you could. We still don’t know if it’s actually ‘my’ book, though. It’s pretty bittersweet, even if you end up liking it.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “We’ll get it back for you. I’m absolutely positive. So stop worrying.”
“Okay,” she says. She looks a little excited now, like the idea is growing on her. “Okay,” she says again, more forcefully. “You really think you might want to publish it if we get it back? I kind of ran away with my tail between my legs when you offered the first time, so I thought maybe the offer wasn’t on the table anymore.”
I shrug. “Landmark seems to think it’s good enough to steal. That’s a start, right?”
She laughs. “That is a twisted start, but yeah, it’s a start.”
I clap my hands. “Perfect. Then it’s a plan.”
I watch her finish her sandwich while I feel all the weight start to lift from my shoulders.
I’m going to do the right thing by her. I can feel it. I know Nolan is going to be disappointed, but he’ll live. Gray Wolfe will live. I’ll think of something else–some other way to get us back on our feet. I’m so sure of it that I almost blurt out everything to Charli.
But I wait, because I need to tell Nolan first. Maybe I feel like I owe it to my business partner to tell him first since I was the one who pitched this whole scheme as the hail mary to save Gray Wolfe. Or maybe I’m just a coward and hoping he’ll offer up some other way to use this situation that doesn’t involve screwing over Charli–some way that means I don’t need to come clean and admit what an idiotic prick I was for even dreaming the idea up.
Right now, none of that can stop me from feeling like I’m in an insanely good mood. I can’t think of a way tonight could have gone more perfectly, from the party to this. Even this small moment with her working on the sandwich I made her in her costume. It’s fucking perfect.
There’s only one thing I can think that could cap off the night–which is now morning, I guess.
“That costume looks like it isn’t very comfortable,” I say slowly.
Her eyes lift up. “It’s–” She hesitates, catching my intention. “It’s definitely a little tight.”
“Those fishnet stockings must be really getting on your nerves.” I move around the counter, my focus sliding from her face to her long legs, which are crossed in front of her as she sits on the barstool at my kitchen island.