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)
Did Reid agree to be the best man strictly because of profit? Was his angle this entire time to get the happy couple to sell their respective businesses to him? Is he truly that ruthless?
“I’ll go grab a bottle of water from the break room.” Cleo pats my shoulder. “Wait right here.”
I stop her by grabbing hold of her wrist. “Please stay for a minute. I’m feeling a little light-headed.”
She sits beside me. I breathe out a sigh of relief because I don’t want her to run into Reid in the corridor. The last thing I need at this moment is to face him.
We sit in silence until a full three minutes pass, and I hear Reid’s voice booming through the corridor as he calls for someone to hold the elevator for him. Once the ding signals its departure, I glance at Cleo. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“I’m calling my driver to take you home,” she tells me. “I’ll let Reid know that you’re ill. I’ll find someone to cover for you, so don’t you worry about a thing.”
Ditching work like this is not something I’ve ever done, but I’ve also never felt as though I’m falling in love before. Tears well in my eyes as I realize I may not even know the man I was ready to give my heart to.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Reid
Since I have no idea what’s ailing Evangeline, I’m at her apartment building with a multitude of things I hope will help her feel better. That includes supposedly homemade chicken soup from a bistro on the Upper East Side, a dozen different chocolate bars from Wolf Candy, a puzzle with a thousand pieces from a toy store in Times Square, and a bottle of the best red wine I’ve ever had. Naturally, I also come bearing a dozen pink roses.
I press the button next to her surname on the pad located near the locked door to her building. I glance at the rusted intercom speaker while waiting for her to respond.
A woman brushes past me with a key in hand. Her arms are even more overloaded with packages than mine are. “I’m sorry. I found a few too many bargains today. I didn’t mean to bump you that hard.”
“Allow me to help,” I say, still glancing at the intercom. Concern settles in my gut because what if Evie is passed out in her apartment? What if a fever has incapacitated her?
The woman shoves practically everything in her hands in my direction. I rearrange what I’m holding to help her out.
“Those flowers are to die for.” She bats her eyelashes at me. “Is a lucky lady in this building getting those?”
Something tells me that every person in this building has experienced Evangeline’s kindness, so I take a leap of faith and say her name. “Evie Starling.”
“Oh, Evie.” She turns the key in the lock. “She’s such a sweetheart. You’re on your way to see her now?”
“I am.” I take one last fleeting glance at the intercom.
“Follow me up.” She grabs hold of one of the bags she tossed at me. “I live a floor above her.”
I don’t hesitate as I trail her into the building because the unease that washed over me when Cleo first told me Evie wasn’t feeling well earlier has now taken root inside me in the form of dread.
A knock at Evie’s apartment door unveils a surprise I couldn’t have seen coming.
Charlotte answers the door with a stern look on her face. If I didn’t know better, I would think I’m in shit.
“I thought you were the delivery guy,” she explains her expression away. “I ordered a smoothie for Evie twenty minutes ago packed with all kinds of good stuff, and it’s still not here.“
I dip my chin to lure her attention to everything I’m holding. “I brought these for her.”
“Flowers?” She singles out the bouquet by snatching it from me. “These are gorgeous, Reid. Evie may have been wrong when she called you a boss from hell.”
I glance past her to see Evangeline standing near the window. Her back is to me, but I can tell she’s traded the dress she wore earlier at the office for jeans and a yellow sweatshirt. “Evangeline? How are you?”
“Fine,” she says before she spins to face me. “What are you doing here? How did you get in the building?”
Although not the response I was hoping for, I answer both questions. “Cleo told me you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you a few things. One of your neighbors let me in. I buzzed, but you never answered.”
I leave out that I’ve also called her twice and sent her three text messages, but all have gone unanswered.
“It’s hard to hear,” she explains. “I usually ask people to call me when they’re downstairs. That way, I can buzz them up.”