Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138526 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 554(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“Both.” His arrogance as he sips his drink is comical and obviously in jest, but it still grates on me.
I glare at him, still twitching with the need to pick up the cards but surprised I forgot about them at all for a little while there. That’s not something I can ever say has happened before. “Don’t be smug. It makes you ugly.”
He spits his drink back into his glass and starts to choke while laughing.
“This is already the best trip we’ve ever had together.”
I start to pick up the cards, but he yanks them from my hand and hands me my drink instead.
“Leave them.”
“Until when?”
“Until you physically can’t cope anymore.”
I only last half an hour, but I’ve never been so proud of myself.
Chapter Nine
He gives the best gifts. So thoughtful.
We ate dinner together last night and drank wine which didn’t exactly mix well with the whiskey we’d already consumed. By eleven PM we were both swaying on the spot, laughing and joking like we did that night he showed up on my birthday. It was an amazing night and I worried for a moment that he’d go back to his old self again, but he hasn’t.
This morning we ate breakfast together, both of us nursing hangovers. I asked him to never speak a word to anybody about the number thing and he promised he wouldn’t but then he started asking me what number I reckon I’d say about random men in the restaurant. That was fun. He’d point and I’d reply with whatever number entered my mind. Some poor guy with a huge Afro got the number seven.
We headed to WhyTech, strolled around doing our jobs, speaking to people and taking a mountain of paperwork to get through. I knew it was going to be a long night the second I saw the mountain to be done.
Here we are at midnight after a super long day, sitting in his room on his huge bed, not an uncommon place for us to work from time to time. He’s resting back against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles, I’m sitting at the end of the bed cross-legged. Both hungry, both exhausted, both looking through receipt after receipt, adding up things to get the total for the year because something isn’t quite right. I can see it’s stressing Mr. C out, so I don’t talk, I just work.
“There’s definitely a lot of money missing that’s unaccounted for,” I whisper when we get to the end less than two hours later and he’s scratching the shadow of stubble on his chin.
“This is…” He blows out a harsh breath. “FUCK!” He kicks the files off the bed, and they flutter around the room.
“Feel better?” I ask, yawning loudly.
He shakes his head as I move around the room, picking up the scattered paper. I almost fall when a pillow hits me in the side of the head.
I look at him, glaring. “Are you for real?”
“What did I say?”
I throw the pillow back and sit back on the end of the bed. “You’re an ass.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“I know,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and lying back on the bed, almost forgetting this isn’t my room, it’s his. “What are you going to do?”
“Launch an investigation into the company branch. There’s nothing else I can do without going around and pointing fingers. This kind of money missing is a jail sentence.”
My stomach grumbles and then his responds. We share a laugh in this dire moment.
“Room service has finished for the night,” he comments, patting his stomach which has absolutely no fat on it whatsoever. I’ve heard he has a six-pack, but I’ve never seen it. I’ve never been interested enough to try. “Shall we see if we can order pizza?”
I shake my head. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to sleep.” My eyes drift close in agreement. “Sorry this didn’t have a happy ending.”
“What? You in my hotel room?” he jokes and my cheeks heat at the thought of me and him in his bed… Nope. Definitely not going there in my thoughts. “Kidding.”
“I know. I’m just too tired to laugh.” I sit up and rub my eyes, then sigh, stand, and stretch. “We should clean this up or I won’t be able to sleep.”
“You were about to sleep then just fine,” he comments wryly, and we start picking up the scattered papers.
“I wasn’t thinking about it then.”
“What were you thinking about?” he asks and my cheeks heat because I remember exactly what and who I was thinking about to forget the papers.
“The number six,” I lie and turn away from him.
“Me too,” he replies but there’s a tone to his voice which sends a chill down my spine.
I get the hell out of his room before I think of the number six anymore.