Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Okay Siri,
if you say so.
I smirk as I hit send.
Siri?
I glance over to see him sitting on a stool, smirking back as he texts me.
Bastard. I like this game, and I really shouldn’t. I reply.
Well you seem to know everything,
so I assume you moonlight as Siri.
I look over to see him smile broadly as he reads my text. I bite the inside of my cheek as I act uninterested.
Lose the prick
and come buy me a drink.
I giggle before I can stop myself. Of all the nerve.
I don’t buy random men drinks.
Jealous?
I glance over to see him smiling as he texts back.
Of him?
You must be joking.
And you will do whatever I say.
Make it Scotch.
My eyes glance over to the bar at Gabriel as he waits. This is insane. I feel so naughty. I write back.
You are delusional and strange.
When I’m delusional I just
imagine I’m in Hawaii
drinking Mimosas.
Scotch is not a dream drink.
Gabriel walks back through the crowd with our two drinks and places them on the table. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
He takes a seat. “Are you serious?”
“Gabriel.” I sigh. Here we go—an hour-long lecture. “Fletcher wanted to work for them.”
“Why wouldn’t he come and work for me?” he snaps. “I’m offended. Ferrara Media is where he should be.”
“He applied without me even knowing. I have to let him choose his path.”
“With him?” he snaps again.
My phone beeps with a text. I glance at the screen.
That’s a great idea,
let’s go to Hawaii for the
weekend.
We can practice tantric sex.
A stupid grin crosses my face before I can cover it up.
Stop it.
I bring my focus back to Gabriel. “Look,” I say guiltily. “It’s only twelve months, and I know that it isn’t ideal, but it will be good for him to get out of his comfort zone. And besides, he’s giving them a run for their money, so he might not even last without being fired.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you would react like this.”
A text bounces in, and I pick up my phone off the table to shield it from Gabriel’s eyes. It’s a cartoon Kama Sutra image of people in a sexual position with the heading ROCK-A-BYE BOOTY.
I glance over and see Tristan’s shoulders bouncing as he laughs and watches me.
Oh hell.
“I’m not impressed at all, Claire. I don’t like him being around them,” Gabriel continues, completely distracted.
“You know as well as I do they are good businesspeople,” I argue. “I wasn’t impressed at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.” My phone beeps with a text, and I open it discreetly on my lap. It’s another cartoon Kama Sutra drawing of a woman crouched between a man’s legs, his dick in her mouth. The heading is THE MOTHERLOAD.
What the hell?
I burst out laughing. I glance up, and Tristan’s eyes are alight with mischief as he chuckles.
“What is so funny?” Gabriel snaps.
“Oh, Marley is having boyfriend trouble. She’s just relaying their latest tiff,” I lie.
“No wonder,” he mutters into his drink. “That woman is a nutjob.”
A waitress arrives at our table. “Here you go—two mimosas.” She carefully puts the two drinks down in front of us.
“What are these?” Gabriel frowns.
“On the house,” the waitress replies. “Enjoy.” She walks off, and I stare at the drinks in front of us.
Don’t look over at him . . . don’t look at him . . . don’t look at him. That’s what he wants.
I cannot believe the gall of this man.
Most men would be rattled seeing a woman out with another man.
Most men aren’t Tristen Miles.
He’s unrattle-able . . . is that even a word? And I hate to admit it, but confidence in a man is very fucking appealing.
Gabriel picks up his mimosa and takes a sip. “Hmm, not bad.” He shrugs.
I smirk as I stare at my clueless friend. If he knew who bought that drink, he would be choking on it. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” I say.
I get up and make my way through the bar and into the ladies’ bathroom. I take my time and mentally prepare myself to ignore Tristan for good.
I need to stop this flirty game we have going on.
But he’s so fun.
No . . . enough is enough.
I open the door, and before I know it, someone grabs my hand and pulls me around the corner and pins me to the wall.
“Tristan,” I whisper.
His lips drop to my neck. “Hello, Anderson, fancy meeting you here.” He smiles against my skin as his teeth skim my neck.
“What are you doing?” I whisper as goose bumps scatter up my arms.
“Accosting you in the hallway—what does it look like?” He bites me hard, and I tingle to my toes.
“What if I really was here with Gabriel?” I stammer.
“Then I’m about to steal his girl.” He smiles as he takes my face in his hands.