Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Indigo’s gaze clung to my face, not unlike a puppy. I glared back, because I was a petty fuck, and because staring competitions were apparently my forte, along with sexually harassing middle-aged charity chairwomen in text messages.
“Hey.” I leaned down, my lips finding the shell of New Girl’s ear. She didn’t shiver, and most nannies did. It caught me slightly off-guard, but not enough to deter me from my mission. “Wanna know a secret?”
New Girl didn’t answer, so I took it as a sign to continue, “I wet my bed at night. Every. Single. Night. But with the tour jitters and all, I properly piss all over the place. Sometimes it mixes with the spunk from the last girl I rolled between the sheets. Sometimes her juices are a package deal, too. I always ask my assistants to make my bed because, unlike the hotel staff, they actually sign a non-disclosure. Think you can manage that, little one?”
I straightened, examining her face. This was the point where their eyes widened, their mouths fell open, and their faces paled. Not with this one. No. New Girl’s smile was sun-bright and type-two-diabetes sugary.
“Mr. Winslow, I’d be more than happy to purchase a pack of adult diapers for you. In fact, I think they’d suit you just fine, considering your behavior.”
Where had Jenna found this girl, and how could I send her back to whatever hellhole she’d come from before she boarded the plane with us on Wednesday? I smirked, my elbow still against the wall, raking my callused fingers through my long hair.
“Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?” I dropped the bemused tone. Playtime was over the minute she got cheeky.
“Actually, I do.” She took a step forward. “I’m getting myself out of a really bad financial situation, which means your antics mean nothing to me. I need the money. I’ll see these three months through and keep you sober, no matter what.”
“You don’t know what ‘what’ entails, so I wouldn’t go around making promises if I were you.”
Her eyes flashed theatrically, and I was beginning to really lose my patience with this one. “Here I am, making a promise. Sue me, Mr. Winslow.”
Don’t fucking tempt me, New Girl.
I took a wide step, erasing the space between us, and now her small tits brushed against my stomach. Her eyes were kindled with enough determination to burn down the hotel. I was on the verge of tossing her out to the balcony with my very own hands when Saint Lucas, AKA Waitrose, appeared from behind my shoulder, stretching his arm toward her and saving her day.
“Lucas Rafferty. Drummer.” He flashed his megawatt, Brad-Pitt’s-Nicer-Brother grin. Her guarded expression liquefied into a smile instantly, and she released her hand from mine, taking his. That was when I noticed we’d been shaking hands for three minutes. So, New Girl was a creep, too.
Nice touch, Jenna. You’re getting a bin bag and a tabloid scandal for Christmas.
“Indie.”
“Hippie parents?” Waitrose’s soft chuckle probably melted her insides into marshmallow. Lucas had the ability to charm the knickers off of a fucking stapler, and although he kept his love life unusually private, women had the tendency to throw themselves at him. The irony was, Lucas didn’t deserve these girls.
She shrugged. “Just literal. They called me Indigo because of my eye color.”
A blush crept up her neck, crawling to her cheeks and resting on her hairline, like a crown. I shook my head and sauntered to the dining table, leaning a hip against it and shoving a handful of crackers into my mouth.
“Babies’ eye color can change until they’re four,” Lucas pointed out from behind my back. Were they vying for The Most Boring Conversation in the World award? Because they sure as hell had my vote.
“I guess they were risk-takers, too.” Her throaty laugh filled the room.
“Were?”
“They died.” Pause. “Car accident.”
“So sorry to hear.” His posh, public school accent rang in my ears and jam-packed me with fresh, red rage.
He sounded gutted. I wasn’t particularly happy to learn New Girl was an orphan, either. But the thing about Lucas was, he literally was hurting for her, the way children do before they grow up and get hardened by life. He was the most obnoxiously earnest human being I’d ever met. As far as my knowledge went, I was the only person in the world he’d fucked over. Which, one could argue, said a lot about my level of arseholery or likeability. Or lack thereof.
Jenna resurfaced from the terrace, shoving her phone into her bag. Her smile told me if I tried to say no to hiring New Girl, she was going to dump my sorry arse to the nearest curb. There were other agents, big and powerful as she was, but there was only one agent to bail my eejit self from jail at three in the morning when I’d decided to play a one-sided game of chicken with a police patrol car on the Pacific Highway and finish the night doodling on a booker’s tit. I couldn’t rely on my drummer, manager, and bass guitarist to flush the toilet, let alone be there when I fucked up in spectacular fashion. I loved my friends the way you love your pet. Fiercely, but with no expectations of reciprocation. My family…well, that was an entirely different story I didn’t want to delve into.