Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Okay,” she agreed, testing a hand on his chest. “And your loan.”
A pause went by. “Yeah, princess. That, too.”
And she left her palm over his heartbeat, feeling the steady pound, while the train trundled on against the endless sky, his chin eventually coming to rest on top of her head. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Ha.
Chapter Seven
Familiar faces smiled back at Natalie from the surface of her laptop screen. Every time she logged in to social media to check on her New York colleagues, their expressions and even their names became less and less recognizable. The pictures of her former coworkers on a private rooftop had been taken only yesterday, maybe even while she’d been making out with her archnemesis aboard the wine train, but it was like looking at photographs from the past.
The longer Natalie was away from New York, the more these people and their glitzy activities grew unfamiliar. The bounce of euphoria after a successful swap, the adrenaline that surged when the opening bell rang—her memories of those things were starting to fade along with the scent of victory cigars. Those pieces of her life were growing muffled and she wanted them back. Sharper. She wanted to experience it all again, in person.
When she’d first arrived in St. Helena, there had been an almost desperate sense of FOMO. Must get back as soon as possible. Must not let them forget about me. It was still there, beating like an extra pulse in her bloodstream, but the urgency had started to lose its grip on her—and that simply wouldn’t do. She needed it back. Five minutes in New York equated to five years anywhere else. People forgot. Business moved on. The road paved right over yesterday’s star and called them a speed bump.
She belonged on that roof, making the toast. Celebrating a breakneck trade that added value to the fund’s coffers. Zeroes on the screen. When she’d been adding those zeroes, she’d been embraced. She’d been a member of the winning team.
Here in St. Helena?
She was the bumbling, cartoonish mascot.
Although yesterday, for a very brief window, she’d been on a two-person team. With the most unexpected of allies. August. Maybe that’s why she was awake so early—again—trying to sear images from her desired timeline into her brain. Because it had been a little too easy to call a truce with August and let herself just . . . be. Be okay with that big arm slung around her hip and his prickly chin resting on top of her head, nuzzling her hair every so often.
Was it a show for the crowd?
Natalie sighed and stroked a few keys on her Mac, going to a location on the internet she absolutely should be avoiding like the pork special at an all-night diner.
Her ex-fiancé’s Instagram.
She hesitated briefly before tapping enter—and then there he was in all his suited, boyish charm. Her stomach turned sour at the memory of him calmly asking for her engagement ring back. He’d been even calmer while explaining that while he might love her, he couldn’t let their relationship cost him a career he’d worked so hard for.
Calmer still while he asked her to leave.
August wouldn’t break up with her that way—that is, if they were actually together, instead of merely pretending. There would be shouting and door slamming and insults from both of them. They would bring the house down. Why was she even thinking about this? Moreover, why was she suddenly taking note of Morrison’s shoulders and musing that they could fit into her fake fiancé’s shoulders three times? It wasn’t a competition—
Natalie drew in a breath as a new image popped up on the screen. Just posted. A picture of Morrison on the balcony where she used to have her coffee overlooking Central Park South. Beside him was a familiar blonde in a white bathrobe sipping green juice from a glass, rolling her eyes over having the photo taken. That blonde . . . Krista, right? Natalie knew her.
One of their board member’s daughters.
He’d traded up.
Feeling out of breath, Natalie smacked the laptop shut. She stood up and walked a half circle around the bed. Her heart wasn’t breaking. That damage had already been done and, if she was being honest, it had been the easiest part to mend. But her confidence? That was a different story—and it took another pounding now, an invisible mallet flattening her like a chicken cutlet between two sheets of wax paper.
“Deep breath,” she murmured to herself, stretching her arms up over her head and letting them float down slowly. Back up, back down. She could spin this jarring discovery that her fiancé was already moving on into something positive. What didn’t kill her would make her stronger. The fact that her ex was sleeping with a billionaire’s beautiful daughter would only make her comeback more satisfying. She’d belong again. Not exactly as before, but with a similar life. She’d get back that sense of . . . being wanted. Being seen.