Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I find Phillip in the observation lounge after the performance. It’s where everyone has gathered for more drinks. He’s speaking to Tyson and the captain, a booming, loud Scottish man with flaming-red hair. It’s wild of me to waltz right up to them and ask Phillip for a moment of his time, but as I’ve said, there’s nothing to lose. I’m at rock bottom. On the floor of the ocean. It’s me and all those weird blind fish slithering around in the depths with nowhere to go but up.
“Phillip, could I steal you away?”
All three men turn to me, surprise evident on their faces.
Phillip doesn’t agree right away, and his silence has me almost wanting to flee, but I’m here. I’ve done the hard thing, so I lift my chin and wait him out.
It’s Captain Neal who puts me out of my misery first. His thick red eyebrows shoot up, and he bellows a laugh. “You can steal me away, lass.”
He even holds his wrists together out in front of him as if begging to be led away in handcuffs.
Phillip shakes his head and steps forward, a private smile concealed as he dips his head for a moment. When his blue eyes lock with mine again, he motions for me to go ahead of him. I’m tempted to lead him to a quiet corner of the room, somewhere we won’t be overheard, but even that won’t do. We need absolute privacy for this conversation.
I loop past Sienna at the bar, glad to see she’s perched beside Javier, twisting a martini olive around the rim of her glass while she listens to him talk. Her chin is propped on her hand as she leans closer, completely enamored. I wonder if that’s customary for her or if he might be something special, unique in a way that Phillip is for me.
I’m surprised he doesn’t protest when I leave the room completely and walk out into the hall. It’s as deserted as I’d hoped it’d be. All the guests gathered in the observation lounge are deep in conversation or gambling at one of the tables set up in the back corner. The night is young, and I doubt anyone will bother us for the next few minutes. At least, I hope not.
Beside a small table tucked into a shallow alcove, I stop and turn, watching as Phillip reaches me. He carries a thick crystal glass holding the last remnants of a rich-amber liquor. He finishes it off before setting it down on the table, crossing his arms, and leaning ever so casually against the wall, obviously waiting for me to speak.
“I appreciate your time,” I say, hating how formal I sound. Aren’t we past this?
His lip curls in a deliciously wicked smile. “Care to tell me what this is about?”
His gaze falls to my wringing hands, and I immediately pull them apart. Thinking I might look as relaxed as he does, I try to lean against the table. But when it catches my weight, it teeters, and I blanch and reach out for a vase of flowers sitting on top before it topples over.
With an ever-encroaching flush creeping up my neck, I decide to just have out with it.
“All right, let’s cut to the chase. I’m prepared to offer you an exchange.”
Good. I managed to sound confident.
He doesn’t even balk, which is slightly disappointing. I’d hoped to catch him off guard.
“An exchange would require interest from both parties,” he says, nearly sounding bored. “You have nothing I want.”
“Sure about that?”
His icy-blue eyes seem to carry a question.
I arch a brow and sweep my hand down my body like I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet open for business. Still, he seems to have a hard time piecing things together. Maybe he isn’t regularly offered sex in this way. Admittedly, I’m a novice at it, too, but subtlety has no place here. I’ll clearly have to spell it out.
“I’m offering an exchange of favors. Mine will be of the sexual kind. If that wasn’t obvious already . . .”
Chapter Ten
CASEY
Phillip doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he wants to laugh at my proposition.
Dammit. That’s what I get for being cutesy rather than sexy. I wish I could snap my fingers and create some luscious curves. The kind guys go gaga for. I settle for arching my back a little, accentuating my nice, full C-cup chest.
Phillip notices. Oh yes. His eyes widen just enough to let me know that he’s not immune to my advances. I watch his Adam’s apple bob before he narrows his eyes and asks shrewdly, “You’ll sell your body for a story?”
I cross my arms and reject his judgment with a bored tone. “When you put it like that, it sounds crass, but yes, I suppose so.”
He advances on me then with a dark look. Apparently, the time for conversation is over. This is happening. He’s going to pounce.