Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I slip on some nude strappy stilettos. Or would the black ones look better?
The doorbell sounds from downstairs. “Who’s that?” It rings again. “Coming,” I call. I bound down the stairs and open the door to see Taryn. “Taryn.” I smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She beams. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I step back to let her walk past me into the house. “What’s up?”
She flops onto my couch. “What are you wearing tonight?”
Huh?
“Umm.” I frown. “Sorry . . . What’s tonight?”
“Our double date.”
“What?”
“Yeah, Henley came over this morning and arranged it with Mason and I.”
I stare at her as I try to get my brain to catch up. “So you and Mason are going on a date?”
“No.” She rolls her eyes as if I’m stupid. “Henley and I are going on a date together, and you and Mason are hooking up . . . remember?”
“Oh . . . right.”
What the fuck?
“Okay.” I try to think on my feet. “Where are we going to, again?”
“Club SoHo.” She frowns over at me. “Were you listening to Henley at all when he organized this with you?”
“Obviously not.” I smile through gritted teeth.
“So . . . what are you thinking?” she says. “Pure, slutty, supermodel . . . What look are you going for?”
“Psychopathic works for me.”
“Juliet, honestly.” She throws her head back and laughs out loud. “You’re such a hoot.”
I’ll hoot you in a fucking second.
“I don’t know what I’m wearing. I’ll play it by ear, I guess,” I tell her.
“I’m going to wear my tight white dress. I really want to blow Henley’s brains out.”
That makes two of us.
“Sounds like a plan.” I fake a smile. “I’ve got a lot to do, so . . .”
She stands. “I’ll let you get to it. Mason is so excited to finally spend some time with you.”
“Great, I can hardly wait.”
Henley is dead fucking meat.
“See you at Henley’s at six.”
I frown. “Six?”
“We’re having drinks there before we go, remember?”
“Right.” I fake a smile as I begin to hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “See you then.” I close the door and march upstairs.
What the fuck is he playing at?
I wait fifteen minutes until the coast is clear, and I sneak over to Henley’s through his side gate and into his backyard.
Damn this sneaking-around shit. I’m over it.
Bang, bang, bang. I knock on his glass sliding door with force.
Silence . . .
Bang, bang, bang. I knock harder.
Eventually he saunters out of the hallway. He’s wearing shorts with no T-shirt, his hair is messed up to perfection, and he is on the phone. “Hi,” he mouths as he opens the door and steps back to let me in. I march past him into the house. He holds a finger up to me to symbolize he will be a few minutes, and then he walks back down to his office and sits at his desk.
“Yes, so you can see with the drawing on page two,” he tells whoever he is on the phone to. “Scroll through to page eight, and I want to show you what I’m talking about.”
Ugh . . . he’s on a work call.
I walk out to his kitchen and open the fridge. “Fuck it, I’m having a glass of wine.” I open all the kitchen cupboards as I look for his wineglasses and eventually find them in the last place I look. I pour myself a glass and take a huge gulp. I am furious with him. How dare he make a date with Taryn? And how dare I find out this information from Taryn herself?
Calm down.
I walk back out into the hallway and can hear him still deep in conversation, and I glance up the stairs. I’ve never even seen his bedroom. We are always at my house. I glance back down to his office, and then I sneak up the stairs.
The hallway is grand. Beautiful artwork hangs on the walls, and a marble side table sits at the top of the stairs with a vase of white lilies.
I feel a little deflated. Everything is so luxurious and perfect. What must he think of my disheveled home? I walk past a few guest bedrooms and a white marble bathroom, and then I get to the end of the hall: his bedroom.
It’s huge and grand, with a four-poster bed. The carpet is navy blue, and the walls are a beautiful shade of taupe. Styled to perfection, and not a detail out of place.
An abstract painting of a naked woman in beautiful hues of blue and mauve is hanging above the bed.
“God . . . ,” I whisper to myself as I look around. He is really slumming it at my dumpy house. I walk to his wardrobe and pause as I hold the door handle. I’m almost too scared to look, but I do anyway. I open the door and am surprised by the huge space of his walk-in wardrobe. It’s another room.