Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
“You too.” I smile, dropping my hand.
“So, I guess this means you were successful?” His eyes twinkle as he asks.
“God, no. I already told you, that’s not happening.” I laugh. He laughs harder. Lachlan scowls.
“Well, congratulations,” he says looking at me, and then at Lach. “You got yourself a good one.”
“Trust me, I know.” Lach pulls me into his side.
We talk a little longer before we walk out of his office.
“You are so obvious, Lachlan Duke,” I say, laughing, as I glance up at his face when we reach the elevator.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His lips tug up slightly, as he pushes the button. “What was that about, anyway?” he asks. “That little inside joke.”
“Inside joke?” I frown. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
We step into the empty elevator, and after he pushes the button for the lobby, he walks over until he has my back against the wall. My heart skips when he lifts my chin so I can meet his eyes.
“Just tell me,” he says, voice low, moving his hand to my throat, his thumb over my pulse as he leans down and kisses me. I shiver against him. He pulls away slowly, searching my eyes.
“I asked him to hack into my boyfriend’s brain,” I say.
“What?” He lets out an unexpected laugh. “Leave it to you to make this the topic of your small talk.”
“It’s why I’m the most fun at parties,” I say with a shrug.
“What did Sean say about that?”
“He said if he could do that, he may not have gotten a divorce,” I respond, laughing as we walk out of the elevator. Lach shakes his head and I keep talking, “I told him I wouldn’t want to hack into your brain anyway, because I’d be terrified of what I found.”
“What do you think you’d find?” He turns to me with an amused look on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.
“Honestly, I have no idea. Probably people’s socials and what hospitals they were born at.”
“I’m not that bad.” He laughs, and laughs louder when I shoot him a pointed look. “My brain would feel like you’re in one of those mirror things at a carnival, where you see yourself everywhere.”
“Those things are scary,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “Which proves my point.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t scary in there.” He shrugs, still amused. “I’m just saying, all you’d find in there is yourself.”
“And hockey,” I respond.
“Yeah.” He nods in agreement. “But mostly you.”
We’re both smiling when we reach his parents and Liam.
After lunch, Lach and his parents head back to the office, while I stay behind in a cute little coffee shop across the street from the building. I’m looking at all of the links for dresses Marissa sent me when I see her text on my screen.
Marissa: did you see this? Isn’t this the event you were at?
I click the link she sent. It’s an article about the charity party we went to. In the first picture, two couples were photographed, and in the background, David Jameson, laughing with Mason. Holy shit. I grip my phone to keep it from slipping out of my hands. He was there. Mason’s comment runs through my mind. He’d said it was a Fairview reunion. I thought he meant because I was there with Lachlan. I didn’t think. . .oh my God.
I’m still looking at my phone when someone takes the seat in front of me. My entire body freezes, as the cloud of cigarettes that follows him, reaches my nose. I keep staring at my phone as if that’ll make this less real. I just know he’s been following me everywhere and waiting for his time to strike. For how long? Since the charity event? Fuck. He was probably keeping his distance, since Ronnie had been with me the entire time.
“You’re being very rude, Lyla,” he says. “You’re not supposed to ignore your own godfather.”
My heart pounds fiercely. I finally look up and meet his cold blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says. “But I already have an idea.”
His hand comes down on mine. He does it so fast, I don’t have time to react. It’s my right hand. He hasn’t seen my ring. He hasn’t seen my left. Underneath the table, I turn my ring so the diamond is in my hidden and fist my hand closed. I try to yank my hand from underneath his, but his grip tightens. I need to scream. I need to scream. Why can’t I fucking scream?
“Did you not learn your lesson?” he asks, tone grating, squeezing so hard I think he might break my bones. “I guess I’ll have to keep you drugged until I’m done with you.”
“Let me go,” I say, barely audible. I couldn’t seem to get my voice any louder.