Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Want me to quiz you some more?” Maggie offers.
I’ve treated this ball like a work project, deep diving into my research on who will be there, what they do, and paying special attention to the governor’s politics, like his targeted tax relief for the working class and his wife’s pet projects, which literally includes pets. She’s both a dog and cat lover, so I’m hopeful that’s a good sign.
“I think I’m good, thank you, though. And thank you for studying with me the last couple of days.” I cap the lipstick and turn to my friend to look her in the eyes. “I know it wasn’t your idea of fun.”
She shrugs. “No biggie. Just promise me that if anyone asks about the article, you’ll shove a flute of champagne up their ass.”
I laugh at the image that creates in my mind, cocking my head as though considering it. “Not sure I can do that, but I’ll try.”
“Alright, hair and makeup done. Next, get dressed.” Maggie lets me by, and in my bedroom, I pick up the silver gown I bought for tonight. On Dylan’s card, no less. He sent me to a fancy boutique, told me to buy whatever I wanted to feel beautiful and ready for war, and I’d known the instant I put this dress on that this was it.
I slip the dress up my body, sliding the thin straps over my shoulders, and then pull on my new red Louboutins. I might’ve been shopping with Dylan’s money, but I tried to be reasonable, and the red heels will get infinitely more wear than the silver heeled sandals the salesperson suggested. Plus, they kinda reminded me that, like Dorothy, I’m no longer in ‘Kansas’ anymore, but rather, I’m in the big leagues.
I turn, facing the full-length mirror.
I look stunning and powerful, confident and beautiful. And when a smile tilts my lips… sexy.
It’s perfect.
And just in time, because barely five minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I strut across the living room, opening the door to reveal Dylan in a crisply tailored tuxedo. Good God. He is the definition of perfection.
It’s not the typical prom-slash-wedding number. The jacket is black, but so is his shirt and his long silk tie. He’s quite literally the man in black, and with the dark look on his face, he seems ready for war too. I can’t help how the butterflies act up when I see him. Or how my body heats. Or the tension that grows between us.
Even knowing why we’re dressed to the nines and where we’re going.
"Mr. Sharpe,” I say, fighting off the urge to keep him here all to myself and be a no show tonight.
“Miss Hill, you look gorgeous,” he replies. His eyes trace over me before returning to mine, and I can see that he’s struggling with the same desires I am.
A smile pulls my lips up, and I have to admit to myself that I love it. That this man who gets to me in every single way is affected by me just the same. My heart pounds, and it only stops when we’re interrupted.
Behind me, Maggie says, “You two are something else. Do you call each other Mr. Sharpe and Miss Hill while you’re in bed too?” We laugh, but our eyes never leave each other.
“Shall we?” Dylan says after clearing his throat and holding his arm out.
We say goodbye to Maggie, whom I promise a full report to, and then take the jerking, terrifying elevator downstairs. Vince holds the car door open for me, inclining his head in silent appreciation for my appearance. I thank him with a smile as I climb in. Once we’re settled, Vince heads off into the night.
“Nervous?” Dylan asks, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand. It’s soothing, but I don’t think anything will calm my nerves down. It feels like everything is riding on this moment. All eyes on us. Every word and subtle movement judged. And either we pass the test and the threat of devastation ceases to exist, or everything tumbles down and there will be hell to pay that could affect the entire company and Dylan’s reputation.
I blink once, remembering his question. “I was, but I feel better now that I’m with you,” I confess.
One side of his lips tilts up in a hint of a smile. It’s just the tiniest bit, so slight I wonder if he even knows he’s done it. “Me too.”
The drive is short, both of us silent as we alternately look at each other and out the window. It’s a comfortable silence, though, like we’re both mentally reviewing our talking points for the evening.
When Vince stops in front of the International Hotel, I have a moment of panic. Dylan’s quick with opening the door and helping me out, his hand in mine, but it’s all too much. The lights are bright and the press is three deep as we step out onto the red carpet. There’s more than politics here tonight. There’s business, there’s entertainment, there’s everything the Faulkner event was trying to be, turned up to the max.