Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Since he was right, I stood there nodding as he kept talking, “I’d love another round with her. Maybe I’ll drop by your office sometime to talk to her.”
I changed the subject to the deal I had sealed with him months ago before I pretended that I had an incoming call even though my phone hadn’t made a sound.
That’s when I bolted after Miss Starling. By the time I rounded the corner, she was out of sight.
A quick call to Basil was all it took for me to get back here to the office mere minutes after she did, even though she had a head start.
I blame that on the cup of lemonade sitting atop her desk. It’s half full and still has ice in it, which means she made a pit stop on her way here to buy it.
I have no fucking idea how I noticed the lemonade given that there’s a huge bouquet of multi-colored roses right next to it.
If Magnus is the one who sent those to her, I think my head might explode.
“Did Mrs. Tabbert push back your meeting?” she asks, breaking through my thoughts.
“No,” I snap. “You’ll do that once we’re done here.”
Her gaze drops to the watch on her wrist. “Maybe I should do it now. Your meeting was supposed to start a few minutes ago. You know how she gets if you’re not prompt.”
I don’t know how she gets because Eunice Tabbert never voices any frustration with me if I’m late for our meetings. That’s always directed at my assistant in either an email or a call.
I’ve read a couple of her ranting emails to Evie and my assistant’s masterful responses. I’ve also overheard how Evie handled the owner of Tabbert’s Shoes on the phone.
As much as I want the chance to take that business off of Eunice’s hands, I need something else more at this moment.
Answers.
The questions are all related to why the hell my assistant got naked with Magnus Brewster.
The thought of him seeing her beautiful body with nothing covering it is too much. I dig my palms into my eye sockets in a failed attempt to chase away the image of the two of them together.
“Do you have a headache, sir?”
I should remind her to call me Reid, but that’s insignificant right now. Everything is trivial beyond the fact that Magnus Brewster’s dick touched her.
I drop my hands and face her head on. Her eyes are as wide as a deer facing oncoming headlights. She’s too innocent, and pure, and frankly, too damn good for a bastard like Brewster.
She scrubs a hand over her forehead. “I think I know what this is about.”
I’ll take that as confirmation that she took off like a lightning bolt when she saw Magnus on the approach earlier. “Go on.”
“Before I do, should I point out that you’re not permitted to ask me personal questions?” She bats her naturally long eyelashes. “I vaguely remember that being in my contract.”
I’m the idiot that put that in her contract. I did it to keep Baden and Vance out of my personal business, but now it’s coming back to bite me square in the ass.
Great. Just fucking great.
I need to find a way to edge around my goddamn rule to get at least some clarification about what happened between Magnus and her and less importantly, when it happened.
There is also a strict clause in her contract prohibiting her from screwing around with any clients. It’s in every contract, including mine, because my best friends insisted on it.
It was actually a mutual decision made when we were set to launch this venture. None of us wanted the business to tank because we couldn’t keep our dicks in our pants and away from clients.
“That’s correct,” I mumble as I struggle to find something else to say.
Something that will let me know that Magnus is mistaken, and he fucked another breathtaking brunette with a penchant for red lipstick.
“I can offer personal information, though,” she says. “My contract said nothing about that.”
Feeling as though she’s about to confess all, I war with myself over whether I truly want that.
I suspect that confirmation they fucked is not going to alleviate whatever the hell it is I’m feeling. It’s like a cement truck parked itself on my chest. I can’t breathe, my pulse is racing, and I have the urge to drive my fist into the “calming bear” that Norbeta got me as a gag gift on the day she retired.
It’s essentially a teddy bear dressed in a gray three-piece suit, but according to her, the premise is that if I hug the damn thing, it’ll chase away all of my anxiety.
All I can picture as I get a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye is the smug grin on Brewster’s face when he told me he fucked Evie.