Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Just the malicious gleam in your eye.”
“Not malicious, more . . .”
“Mischievous?”
“Gotta have something to entertain me,” he says, sipping from his cup. “Seriously,” he adds, setting it down on the marble coffee table between us. “I’m really happy for both of you.”
“Thank you.” I’m oddly warmed and more than a little embarrassed as I reach into my purse and pull out my glasses and my phone.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but he’s really happy.”
His words make me glow. “He makes me happy too.”
“That’s good. I mean, I had my concerns. Oliver is a complicated man.”
“Aren’t you all?”
He huffs a laugh. “We’re simple creatures, Eve. Essentially big house cats.”
“Because you pee on things to mark your territory?”
“Not me,” he says as he laughs. “Not sure about Oliver.”
“Oliver is not a house cat.” Fiddling with my glasses, I slide them on.
“We just want to be looked after. Loved on. Maybe get the occasional belly rub.”
“That’s not a cat. That’s a dog.”
“Men are dogs doesn’t have the same ring to it.” He grins. “I’m glad you’re both happy, though . . .” Fin stands and leans over the coffee table, actually plucking my glasses from my face. Stunned, I let him.
He peers through the lenses, then hands them back. “Just making sure they aren’t rose tinted.”
“And he’s your friend?” I laugh as I fold the arms, then rest them in my lap.
“It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.”
Hard and do are not two words I intend to discuss with Oliver’s friend.
“You know . . .” He pauses as though weighing his words. “I swore he was up to something that night we met you for dinner. I don’t know if he told you, but I might’ve accused him of stringing you along. What with Atherton and all that crap that passed between them and Lucy.”
“Yeah, Lucy.” I stare down at my cup as I suffer that familiar sinking sensation. He loves me, but all the trouble, the stuff he put me through, was on her behalf. I know she was more than his PA, but I can’t bring myself to ask about her. My pride won’t let me.
“He told you about her? Wow.”
“No,” I add quickly. “I know about losing the land at tender and what Mitch did. But, honestly,” I say, painting on my I don’t give a fuck face, “I’m not interested in going over old ground.” He shoots me a doubtful look, but I just raise my chin. “He’ll tell me if he wants too.” No way I’m lowering myself to ask him.
“Oliver swore he’d crush Atherton.” Fin pauses, his attention turning inward for a beat. “I can’t say I blame him. I guess I worried he was making you part of that.”
“I think he’s got his closure,” I say, lifting my cup, not about to mention our troublesome beginnings. Like Yara says, love has sprung from stranger wells.
“I told him months ago he should’ve set the guy on his ass. But I might’ve also suggested the pair hate fuck it out.”
“What?” I splutter, worried my coffee might shoot out my nose.
“Shock tactics,” he adds with a grin. “I’m glad he’s getting over it, though God only knows what he’s going to do with that monstrosity.”
“Northaby? I kind of love the place.”
“I said he’d look at home there, playing lord of the manor.”
“He’s got the tweed,” I add with a giggle.
“I told him he should move out there, give running that giant petting zoo a shot.”
“I bet he loved that.”
“He replied, ‘I’m a businessman, not a philanthropist,’” Fin says, mimicking Oliver’s cut glass tones. “Then he shot me down when I tried to turn the conversation to breeding.”
“Oh my gosh. I am not touching that.”
“You should persuade him.”
“No way. As long as the animals aren’t destined for some exotic-animal trade, I’m happy for him.”
“Oliver’s a lot of things, but I know he wouldn’t do that. Think about it, though. Access to your very own safari park.”
“Actually, it’s animals I came to speak to Oliver about.”
“Oh?”
“Well, I wanted to pick his brains about the sanctuary I volunteer at.”
“Will I do? I’m on my fifth coffee of the day, so I guess now is as good a time as any.”
“Do you happen to know how I can trace the owner of a company in England?”
“Depends. What kind of company is it?”
“A limited company, I think.” Slipping on my glasses again, I flip over my phone and bring the touchscreen to life. “Atterir Limited is its name.”
“You can find the owner of a limited company easy enough.” Stretching out his long legs, he pulls out his own phone. A few taps on the screen, then he rounds the low table to sit next to me. “So, this government website makes the names of limited companies available. And this company, Atterir—do I have it spelled right?”