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)
“I’m going,” I agree. “I’ll let him know tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 4
DYLAN
Leaning back in my chair, I take a moment and ponder my office. There are floor to ceiling windows, an Italian leather sofa against one wall that allows me a view out of said windows, and a commanding desk that sweeps around in a forty-five-degree angle in order to give me multiple work areas. I could easily run my empire from one end and fuck at the other and that would be just fine. No need to throw anything off the surface or disturb a single sheet of paper. I’ve yet to enjoy that feature. Truthfully, I’ve never considered it until this moment, and I’m not entirely sure what brought the idea to mind now.
You know, my subconscious whispers slyly.
More than anything, my office drips of new wealth, because that's exactly what I have and what I am.
There’s no pedigree, no photos of well-known families. No photos at all, in fact. There are no antique bookcases with texts and expensive books. It’s rather spacious, and as my assistant put it, ‘coldly masculine but obviously expensive’. Does that describe me or my office? Probably both, which is exactly the way I like it.
The hints of my work are on my desk, the trio of monitors that can, at any time, feed me information from all the markets across the world.
But as I loosen my tie, I’m not focused on the feeds. I’m focused on the text message I got five minutes ago on my phone from Raven. I’m in. What time should I be ready on Friday? I assume you’ll pick me up?
Her pluckiness makes me smile. She’s accepting my offer, while at the same time having enough confidence in herself and her feminine charm to expect that I would go to her place instead of making her come to me.
It’s good. I like that about her.
I’m just about to message her back and tell her to give me her home address when my phone rings. The screen reads Austin Rogers, and the timing of his call would seem like a sign if I believed in that sort of thing.
In a world where ninety percent of people range from ‘flaming asshole’ to ‘minor-league irritant,’ Austin’s the rarity.
He’s a no-bullshit person. And that makes him one of my only friends.
I answer it. “Austin.”
“Dylan, what’s shaking, man?” Austin greets me, sounding pleased with himself. “How’s the world’s best money maker?”
“And why are you interested in my money maker?” I reply, smirking at the old, silly joke we’ve repeated dozens of times.
“Because it pays for my vacation house,” Austin answers with a laugh, completing the script. “But seriously, how’s life going? Are you going to the Faulkner Fuckfest on Friday?”
He assumes he knows the answer, and normally, he’d be right. But not this time. “Actually, I am. In fact, I’m bringing someone.”
“You?” Austin says in utter shock. “Why? And when did that happen?”
“What do you mean, why?” I ask, and Austin’s knowing hum on the other side reminds me that he knows my history. I haven’t had a significant other in a few years. I’ve been too focused on work, and it’s been hard to trust anyone after what happened with Olivia.
“Just surprised is all,” Austin says and then pesters for more information.
“Well, it’s not exactly what you’re thinking,” I admit, acknowledging that he makes it sound like I’m bringing a date whom I’m on the verge of pledging my undying fealty to, which is not the case. “It’s more of a networking situation. Her name’s Raven Hill, and I interviewed her a few days ago for an open position. She’s not a fit for me.” The thought trails off because in all honesty, she would have been a great candidate. “But I know that Ollie will be there. I want to introduce them.”
“Hmm… Raven Hill?” he echoes, trying to place the name’s familiarity. “As in, Evan Faulkner’s girl?”
Anger simmers inside me at the thought of someone like Raven, beautiful and smart, being with that fucking snake. I didn’t consider others would even realize her history. I really have been keeping my nose to the grindstone and staying out of people’s personal lives a bit too much recently, it seems. “You know her?” I ask with all trace of humor gone.
“I know of her,” Austin replies. “She’s a hustler, does some day trading on her own to build her own portfolio… absolute stunner, too. But it sounds like you know that already.”
My hand clenches on my desk, my knuckles turning white, and I crack them as I steady myself. “I know all of that, and more,” I concede. I wouldn’t typically share intel with anyone, but Austin is different. And this situation is unique. I could use his insight to see if there might be an angle I’m missing or gossip I’m unaware of. “I had an interview scheduled with her earlier this week. Five minutes before, Faulkner strolls into Lionfish, drops a ‘break up’ bomb on her, and then smirks when she called him out on cheating with his assistant.”