Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I was—”
“It’s my fault. I asked you to eat and sleep when she does.” I’m glad he keeps his last analogy off the list, or guilt may eat me alive as badly as it did when he reminded me how easily I swept the hotel security’s stupidity under the rug. “I didn’t realize you’d take it so literally, though. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked. We have an agreement, and even when things blow up in your face, you keep your word. That’s how I know you’ll do the same this time around as well. You’ll never let anything or anyone interfere with River’s best interests.”
The dip in his tone piques my suspicion, but before I can analyze it enough to respond, he joins me on the other side of his desk. “He’s your baby brother, your flesh and blood, so you will always have his back first.” He slaps my shoulder like not an ounce of fucking guilt is hardening my features before using the same hand to pull me in for a man hug. “So how about we stop with the shenanigans that have you forgetting you owe me fifty K, and we get this show on the road?”
Pulling back, he drags his hand under his nose like more than adrenaline is keeping him awake before gesturing the same hand to the door. “I need you downstairs, clearing a path. Dallas said the crowd extends beyond the parameters you set this morning.” He speaks as if he didn’t instruct them not to leave the lobby when Nicole gets hammered by the paparazzi. “A YouTube video blew up overnight. Nicole is all over social media sites.”
When his cell buzzes on his desk, he silences it before bringing up the footage he mentioned. It is a grainy video of Nicole singing in the rain. “Whoever’s stupid idea that was better pray she doesn’t get sick. I’m not lying when I say she won’t have a moment of rest over the next three weeks.” Apprehension settles low in my stomach when he sits in his office chair before he scrolls to his voicemail. “Lucky you made her one day off worthwhile because her ass is mine for the rest of the month.” He winks and makes a clicking noise with his mouth before pressing his phone to his ear. “Then hopefully not long after that… forever.”
His call connects before a syllable can fire from my mouth, and I’m dismissed from his office with an arrogant hand gesture.
“You’re not wearing that.”
I peer down at the shirt I threw on after endeavoring to free the guilt from my veins with a five-mile run before returning my eyes to River. I had to do something to lessen the clog, because even with Knox reminding me of what I’m risking messing with Nicole, it took everything I had to leave his office, minus a confession.
Only during my exhaustive sprint did I realize I’m not trying to free myself from the burden of guilt my exchanges with Nicole have placed on me. I want to release Nicole from hers.
Busting them kissing in the hallway killed me, but after a brief contemplation I should have conducted when Nicole stared at me, brimming with remorse, it dawned on me that their embrace was emotionless and without a single spark. There was no fire behind their kiss. No connection. You couldn’t even say it was fueled by friendship.
That is how lackluster it was.
So, instead of my run clearing the deluge, it added more ambiguity to the waters.
Something isn’t sitting right with me about Nicole and Knox’s relationship, and I’m determined to ensure it isn’t anything close to the horrid thoughts filling my head.
When River coughs, alerting me to my ignorance, I ask, “What’s wrong with my shirt?”
He waits a beat to silently read me before replying, “Knox said the places we’re visiting today are filled with famous people, so you need to look the part.”
Not asking permission, he enters my room before rummaging through my limited selection of clothes.
Once he has a pair of leather pants and a shimmery shirt in his hand, he holds them out to soundlessly gauge my opinion.
His choices are too horrific for a nonverbal reply. “No fucking chance.”
“Language,” he snaps out, mimicking my stern tone as he gets sassy. “And what’s wrong with what I picked?”
I scoff as if he is blind. “The shirt is horrendous. And leather? You want me to wear leather pants in the middle of the day?”
He nods like I’m considering his suggestion more than telling him no. “All the rock stars wear leather.”
“I’m not a rock star, River.”
“You’re not,” he agrees. “But you’re in love with one.”
His reply hits harder than a punch to the stomach, but I act like he’s not as smart as he is. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”