Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Do you know that Sofia, our event planner, is married to Matthew Petrov?” I tell him as I take a pull from my bottle of beer. The two of us are sitting at a sports bar, sharing nachos, while watching the hockey game on the big-screen television.
“No way,” he says, his phone beeping in his hand.
“You’ve been on that thing nonstop today,” I tell him, and he just looks over at me and smirks. “Who are you texting?”
“Grace.” The minute he says her name, my hand stops midway from my mouth to the bar. If I wasn’t holding on to the bottle of beer as hard as I am, it would fall to the floor. The air swishes out of me. “I’m checking to see how she’s doing.”
I put the beer down on the coaster, trying to contain my rage. I also try not to think about why I have so much rage. “You’re texting Grace?” I ask him, thinking maybe I misheard him.
“Yeah,” he confirms, grabbing his own beer bottle and bringing it to his mouth, trying to hide his smile.
“She has a boyfriend,” I inform him, “so you are barking up the wrong tree.” I try not to glare at him but fail. “And two, you’re too old for her.”
“Okay, one, she doesn’t have a boyfriend,” he refutes me. “Two, she’s five years younger than me.”
“I met her boyfriend yesterday.”
Nash laughs at me as he puts his beer down on the coaster. “Who cares?” He picks up the phone again. “I’m checking to see how she is.”
I snatch the phone away from him. “Stop fucking playing in my office.” He snatches the phone back from me.
“If it makes you feel any better, you can play in my office any time you want.” I shake my head as he puts his phone down.
I’m in a semi bad mood the rest of the night, ignoring him and ignoring all the times he picks up his phone. The bad mood lingers into Sunday, and by the time I’m walking into the office on Monday morning, I’m a ticking time bomb.
Stepping out of the elevator, I nod at the receptionist as I walk to my office, spotting Grace right away. She’s walking out of the kitchen with that guy again, who literally has hearts in his eyes. She looks more beautiful than I remember, which pisses me off tenfold.
She smiles at him before she walks toward her desk, her pink-flowered skirt goes to her ankles and swishes around her legs. Her feet are in shiny pink sky-rocket high heels, and my cock immediately wakes up. Her white shirt is a wraparound with small sleeves to her elbows and a big bow sash on the side. I wonder if I pull it, will it open in the front? She must sense someone looking at her because her eyes find mine. Something inside me shifts, but I’m not sure what it is. It’s probably irritation because her eyes shine, and I could get lost in them. “Good morning.” She smiles at me, her eyes lighting up even more.
“Morning,” I snap at her. “Did you just get in?”
“Nope,” she says, walking around her desk, putting the cup of coffee on the desk, “just wanted to get a cup of coffee.” She sits down and looks at me. “Did you have a good weekend?”
“It was fine,” I deflect, walking into my office, ignoring the need to ask her how her weekend went.
“Meeting in ten.” I look up to see Vinny knocking on my door.
“Yeah.” I put my keys down and ignore her when I walk out. I look out a couple of times during the meeting, and every single time I look out, I don’t see her at her desk. I don’t even add things to discuss in the meeting, and when I walk out and go back to my office, she’s not at her desk again.
This time, I spot her coming out of Loren’s office. “You are never at your desk,” I bark when she gets close enough to her desk. I try to keep my voice down, but it comes out a bit higher than it should. The office suddenly goes eerily quiet as all eyes are on us.
“What?” she asks, confused.
“You are never at your desk,” I repeat, my voice is lower now. I look around, making everyone look away. “I came in, and you weren’t at your desk.” I take a deep inhale, and I should count to ten, or maybe even a hundred, but I don’t. “Then I look out during the meeting, and I don’t ever see you at your desk.”
“I’ll order myself an AirTag.” She puts the papers she has in her hands down on her desk. “Then wear it during work hours so you can track me.” She sits in her chair.