Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"Strong?"
"Yes, strong."
He nods with understanding. "What does she like? Besides your bed?"
"Fucking in places that aren't my bed."
He smiles in a way I rarely see. With brotherly pride.
The way he did when I told him I'd lost my virginity.
Ian turns to the hallway. Watches Paloma skip to the door.
She knocks. "Mr. Hunt. Ms. Simms is on her way up. Should I prepare her tea?"
"Yes, thanks," I call back.
Ian smiles. "Indigo Simms. Why is that familiar?"
"I wouldn't dare contemplate your mind."
Something spreads over his face. Some realization.
I try to distract him with a few questions about my division, but he stays half-here, half-digging his memory.
Then she steps into the hallway and his eyes light up.
"The girl from the bar," he says. "Of course."
"There's no 'of course.'"
He shakes his head. "Who wanted it rough so badly it fucked with your head."
"Fuck off."
"You haven't—"
"Don't say anything to her."
"When have I said anything?"
Indigo moves through the hallway. She notices Ian. Nods hello. Enters without knocking.
His eyes light up as he studies her. He doesn't just recognize her name. He recognizes her.
And every fucking thing I told him about her.
How I fucked her.
How I wanted to fuck her.
The holiday I got too pissed and went off about how I couldn't stop thinking about fucking her.
Even though I was with Rory.
Even though I was satisfied.
Even though I'd never be that man that left because of sex.
"Hey." She nods hello to me. Turns to Ian. "We've met. I'm not sure you remember—"
"Indigo Simms. Of course. Ty couldn't stop talking about you." Ian offers his hand. "It's nice to see you again."
"You too." She looks to me for an explanation.
I try to sell my nonchalance.
"I've heard a lot about you," she says.
"All terrible?" he asks.
"Of course. But your girlfriend—I think she's Ty's favorite thing about New York," she says.
"Before you?" he asks.
"I'm almost jealous when he talks about her hair." Indigo motions to her blunt, asymmetrical cut. "It's threatening."
He smiles. "She'll want to meet you."
"That means he wants to make out in front of you," I say.
"With your consent, of course." He winks at her.
She laughs. "I'm more of an exhibitionist, but thanks."
He shoots me a look.
I shoot him a don't.
"If only you met me a few years ago, I would have invited myself," he says. "Ty would deck me, of course. But I'd still offer."
Her laugh gets louder. "And I'd find out later you orchestrated the whole thing so he could defend my honor?"
"It's my duty as his older brother." Ian turns to me. "Friday? Eight o' clock?"
I nod. "If it works for you, Indie."
"Sure," she says. "If you don't mind watching me and Ty make out."
"Is that a dare?" he asks.
She nods.
He holds out his hand to shake. "You're on."
He nods goodbye. Leaves.
She looks back at him. Watches him pretend he's not watching us.
Then she turns to me. Closes the distance between us.
She places one hand on my chest. The other on my waist.
Her eyes close.
Her lips find mine.
She kisses me like I'm the only thing she needs.
For a moment, I believe it.
For a moment, she convinces me we're marrying because we're madly in love.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ty
Paloma interrupts with a knock and a take-out tea. "Yunnan Hong Cha." She smiles at Indie. "Ready to go?"
"I probably should." Indie looks at me. "Or I'll be too tempted to stay."
"Mr. Hunt has a busy day. We don't want to distract him." Paloma shoots me a keep it in your pants look.
Indie nods to my assistant. She turns to me. Pulls me into another slow, deep kiss. "Of course." She winks and follows Paloma out of the office.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzes with a new message.
A picture. The lingerie I asked her to wear. Sheer black knickers curving around her hip.
Peeking out of her black jeans.
The jeans she's wearing today.
Indigo: I don't want you too distracted.
Ty: You don't?
Indigo: If you had to spend the entire morning wondering if I followed your instructions… I'm sure that would take up a lot of space in your mind.
Ty: Are you baiting me, baby?
Indigo: No, sir. I'm just letting you know I followed orders.
My balls tighten.
She's too good at pushing my buttons.
Ty: All of them?
Indigo: Of course.
Ty: Show me.
Indigo: I'm in the car with your assistant.
Ty: And?
Indigo: Do you want me to flash her?
Ty: She's signed an NDA.
Indigo: Yes. She told me it's airtight.
Ty: And?
Indigo: I'm not even supposed to think about someone else watching.
Fuck.
Indigo: Unless that's what you want, sir.
Ty: The second you have privacy.
Indigo: Of course.
She sends another picture. One from her apartment. The mirror in front of her bed. The same black fabric stretched over her hips and arse.
Now she's daring me. To ask her to strip in front of my assistant.
Or some other New York elite.
If she thinks I'm backing down—
She knows better.
For half an hour, I work. My mind is split—half on Indie, half on finding information—but I can't exactly complain about the circumstance.