Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“If they want to go through every account with a fine tooth comb then we are going to let them. Is that clear? I’m not getting into a pissing contest with the Department of Justice just to make a point…the clients will be fine about it. I don’t want anybody sandbagging this shit. Listen, I’m here––downstairs.” He caught my absorbed expression and graced me with one of his platinum smiles.
“I’ll say hello to her for you. Yes, we’ll go out to dinner soon. Only if you promise not to scare her with any of your stories…okay, tell Tim not to do a fucking thing ‘til I speak to him.” He dropped the phone in his jacket pocket and turned to me as Bear pulled the truck in front of the elegant marble building and parked.
“I’m sorry I was lousy company on the ride over.” He leaned over and kissed me, pulled away, looked at me, then kissed me again.
“It’s fine. I like to listen when you talk about work.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” I confessed between a bubble of laughter and his kisses.
Heavy lids lowered over smoldering amber eyes, his voice a seductive purr. “Then I’ll seduce you with talk of the VIX and double dip recessions later.”
“Can I ask you something?” I whispered, aware that Bear could hear everything.
“Anything.” He wrapped a lock of my hair around his finger. “You know that.”
“Have you and Shay…”
“No––never,” he stated firmly. Studying my reaction, surprise and uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s just that…in your office…” my voice dropped lower, “she called you long horn.”
His expression went totally blank, unreadable. He blinked twice. Then an explosion of laughter so loud burst out of him that both Bear and I jumped in our seats.
“Sebastian?”
I let it go on for a while but his fit of laughter didn’t seem to be diminishing. He waved a hand, his shoulders still shaking. Then he grabbed my face and kissed me hard and fast.
“Texas Longhorn. It’s a steer,” he struggled to explain, in between deep, jagged breaths. I stared in confusion. She called him a steer? “It’s a type of cow. It’s also the University of Texas’ mascot. Where I got my undergrad degree…I call her Buckeye. She went to Ohio State University.”
A dawning. “You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone, is that clear.”
“Scout’s honor,” he promised, chuckling. “Wish I didn’t have to go in today, but there’s too much volatility with the markets right now.”
“Go,” I ordered, smiling, and pushed at his shoulders.
“I love you. Call me as soon as you’re out of the doctor’s office.” He raked me with a salacious gleam in his eyes before he stepped out of the SUV
“I love you.” I whispered it, still too bashful to be out and proud like he was. I had to adjust to things by small degrees. He, on the other hand, dove in head first.
He threw a smile over his shoulder before entering the building through the heavily adorned glass and brass doors. As I watched his broad shoulders fade away, a prickling sensation on the back of my neck drew my eyes towards the street corner. And there she was, wearing a stunned look on her plastic face. Paisley. The shock and awe on her features reconfigured into burning outrage. I pulled back from the open window and slid the dark, tinted glass back up, my heart racing. That sinister expression on her face did not bode well for me, and made a mental note to warn Sebastian about it later.
* * *
We detoured to my bank before heading to the clinic. I had to deposit my salary and check to see if I could afford to buy a few new articles of clothing––so that his Highness could stop complaining about my ‘God-awful’ wardrobe. I handed the teller my check, and she returned the receipt with my balance printed on the bottom.
“There’s been some mistake, miss,” I said in French. “This isn’t my balance.”
The stiff faced young woman took the receipt from me and checked it against her computer screen.
“There’s been no mistake. I double checked your account number,” she replied––rudely, I might add.
“This says a hundred and five thousand euro,” I whispered, looking around furtively. “That’s a hundred thousand euro more than I should have. Can you please check again.”
I couldn’t help sounding agitated. After being investigated for embezzlement, the last thing I wanted to hear was that there was an enormous chunk of money sitting in my bank account that I didn’t know about. She narrowed her annoyed eyes at the computer screen. The man behind me started making impatient sounds, craning his neck to see what the hold up was about.
“Here it is, two weeks ago, a wire transfer from Horn & Cie. to UniCredit in the amount of a hundred thousand euros into your account.”