Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“She’ll be thrilled,” I whisper.
“She’ll be more than thrilled when she sees the terms we’re offering her,” he says. “They’re a step up from what she has now.”
“A step up from having a ride back and forth to work?” I laugh softly. “What could that possibly be? A private helicopter that lands on the roof of this building to drop her off each morning and pick her up after work every day?”
His gaze latches on mine. “No helicopter, I’m afraid, but I think she’ll be happy when she reads our proposal.”
“I know she will be.” I nod. “Cleo does good work for the company. She deserves everything you’re offering.”
He walks toward me with even steps. “Is that regret I hear? Do you wish you would have negotiated a ride back and forth to work?”
I wish I had asked for a higher yearly salary, another week of paid vacation, and a lunch allowance, but live and learn.
I shrug. “Regrets are a waste of emotion, sir.”
“Reid,” he corrects me. “It’s Reid, remember?”
“How could I forget?” I whisper as he steps to within inches of me.
“Your contract comes due in a few months,” he reminds me. “We can revisit its terms then.”
This is when I tell him that won’t be necessary since I plan on leaving Vidori once my two year contract expires.
I sort through those words in my head so I can say them in a way that doesn’t offend him, but before I can do that, the phone on my desk starts ringing.
I spring into action and start racing toward it. Once I’m there, I pick it up without hesitation. “Good morning. Mr. Hunt’s office. How may I help you?”
As a potential client tells me about their need to change their meeting with my boss from today to tomorrow, I glance over my shoulder to find him staring at me.
We lock eyes, and when I finally drop my gaze to his lips to find a soft smile, I turn away.
He’s way too brutally handsome for his own good or mine.
I refuse to lose sight of my big picture plans.
I can’t build the career I want at his company. I can’t let his smile sway me to give up my dreams, and I definitely can’t fall for him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Reid
“I can’t help you with a wedding gift, Reid,” Evie says as we stroll down a bustling sidewalk in Greenwich Village. “I barely know Lottie, and I just met Randall.”
I’ve known Randall for most of my life, and I have no fucking clue what to get the happy couple for their upcoming nuptials.
I was going to dump that task in Miss Starling’s lap as I do whenever I need a gift sent to someone, but this is a unique situation, so I took full advantage of that by inviting her to lunch with me.
“Do they have a honeymoon destination worked out?” I reach for the sleeve of her dress to slow her since we’re now crossing the street and a guy on a bike seems determined to stay true to his path.
He whizzes past us without flinching, narrowly missing us both.
“What a jerk!” she yells after him, her words getting lost in the symphony of sounds that make up this city on any given day.
He doesn’t bother glancing over his shoulder. There’s a good chance he didn’t hear her and an even better chance that he doesn’t give a shit what she thinks of him.
“Thank you for slowing me down,” she offers her gratitude with a shy smile. “That could have been catastrophic.”
Or the guy could have pulled a smooth move and darted around her at the last minute. We’ll never know, though, so I nod. “Not a problem, Evie.”
She eyes me up as we stand in the middle of the street. “Where exactly are we going for lunch?”
She has her suspicions. I see that in her brilliant blue eyes. I hone in on that speck of lilac in her right iris. “Your right eye is slightly different than the left.”
That widens her smile until it brightens her entire face.
Jesus. How can a person be this utterly beautiful?
It’s not just the shape of her face or her bone structure. It’s her. Everything about her radiates an energy that is beautiful, peaceful, calming…
A truck horn sends both of our gazes to the left.
The man driving the waste management truck that stopped just a foot short of where we’re standing darts his head out of the driver’s side window. “Hey lovers! Move it!”
“We’re not lovers!” Miss Starling yells back at him, but she adds a wave to it.
The truck driver responds in kind with a wave, too, but his involves a closed fist with just his middle finger wagging in the air.
“Same to you, asshole,” she whispers.
Her voice is so soft that I’m the only one who can hear it, but I like it. “You tell him, Evie.”