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 continue to mingle, meeting new people and chatting with the ones I already know, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Dylan making the rounds too. He stops by each group for just a minute, and I can tell he’s being as political as he is sincere. It’s not that he doesn’t want to give time to the people here, but he knows this isn’t quite his place. So he checks in, smiles, and moves on.
I’m over by the pub’s long ‘slingers’ table, watching a couple of the team play the shuffleboard-like bar game, when I feel him coming up behind me, and I turn around. “Mr. Sharpe.”
“Miss Hill,” he says, and once again, I feel that tingle of desire that permeates every instance Dylan and I are together. “Enjoying yourself, I hope?”
“I am. Thank you,” I say politely with what I hope is a warm smile, not an ‘I’ve seen you naked’ grin. “The European markets were quite the roller coaster today.”
He licks his lips and smirks. “They were. I saw you made significant margins this morning. How was the afternoon?"
“Not as good,” I admit, seeming disappointed in that. “But tomorrow’s a new day, right?”
“That it is.”
To anyone around us, it hopefully seems like perfectly pleasant, professional small talk. Nothing untoward happening here, certainly nothing rumor-worthy.
I feel eyes landing on us, then quickly looking away, and I arch a brow, reminding Dylan that we’re keeping us a secret, so we can’t blow it by making eyes at each other while we fake banal chatter.
Because despite my even tone, I can’t help the stars in my eyes when I look at him. He’s strong, powerful, and sexy, and there’s a part of me that wants to say ‘fuck this place and fuck the rumors’ and climb into his car so we can go back to his place.
“Well, I’ll see you later,” he says, nodding goodbye and moving to the next group of people.
I watch him go, and I don’t even realize I didn’t say goodbye until it's too late.
Wait, does he mean later like later tonight, like he's inviting me over? Or did he simply mean later like sometime in the future? Or was it just a polite phrasing of goodbye?
I don’t know, and I can’t exactly ask with everyone around.
I make my way across the pub, where Shanna’s standing by the bar, getting another drink. “Hey.”
“Hey!” she says, sounding slightly tipsy already. “What’s up, girlfriend?”
“Just having another,” I reply after ordering another beer, and Shanna grins.
“Me too!” She makes it sound like we’ve got something major in common, not just something as expected as getting a drink in a bar.
“How many is this for you?” I ask, a little concerned. I don’t know her well enough to gauge her tolerance, and she seems happy-tipsy, not over-served, but I still watch out for others.
“So far?” she asks, looking up. “Uh, Jason bought me one, Liam bought me one, Danny bought me one… ah… oh, and Eric bought me this one.”
“Buying beers for you?” I ask worriedly, and she nods, grinning. “Is that, you know… all good?”
“It’s no biggie,” Shanna assures me. “They’re just trying to hook up, and I’m the one getting the drinks from the bartender, so I know it’s safe." She wiggles her fingers in a flirty wave, and I follow her gaze across the room to where the guys she’s talking about are looking this way and returning her wave, encouraging her to come back to the table.
Her eyes clear a bit and she leans in, divulging in crisp, enunciated speech, “Besides, they talk more when they think I’m drunk. You can learn a lot.”
When she pulls back, her glassy eyes are back and her smile is a bit knowing. Ooh, she’s a smart one. I like her even more.
“Besides, it’s not like we’re a hookup den. But a little flirting to get through the long days at the office? No harm, no foul, you know?” she teases.
I shake my head. “Uh, sure?”
She’s stepping into dangerous territory… dangerous for me. And I want to back away from it entirely.
Shanna tilts her head, considering me. “Oh, I thought you were the one getting ‘Sharped’? My bad, sorry.” She takes her drink from the bartender, completely oblivious that she just upended my entire life. “Excuse me, better get back to the boys,” she says, sashaying toward the table across the room.
She knows.
I look around, seeing the smiling, laughing faces of my coworkers.
They all know.
I’m fucking the boss. I’m fucking Dylan. I’m getting ‘Sharped’. I didn’t even know that was a thing, but it rolled off Shanna’s tongue like it’s something she’s said before, so it must be.
They probably think that’s how I got my position, which is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I thought I was being so sly, that we were being so careful that nobody would notice. Yet apparently, it’s taken less than a month for me to be labeled as Dylan’s personal plaything.