Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I marched by indoor basketball courts, Pilates studios, pickleball fields, and golf simulators.
The more uber-rich assholes I passed that reminded me of Zach, the more the temperature spiked inside me. I could crack an egg in my veins right now and fry it in two seconds flat.
By the time the club’s spa stretched before me, I’d added hunger to my list of reasons Zachary Sun had landed on my shit list.
Perhaps I’d begun hallucinating, because I swore that I saw Andras head inside.
Odd.
The man wouldn’t recognize a Botox needle if it stabbed him in the eye.
Frowning, I darted after him, diving to catch the door before it closed and planting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, about our conversation…”
The man turned, and I realized it wasn’t Andras at all.
“Sorry.” I yanked back my hand. “Wrong person.”
“Hey, Fae.” Stacey, the receptionist, grinned at me from behind her station. “How’re you doing?”
“Great.” I smiled back. Lies tasted like nothing these days. “You?”
I crept toward the door without turning, too tired to carry on a conversation with someone I barely knew. The club employed us both, but I could count on one hand the number of times we’d spoken and still have fingers left over.
“Not bad. My boyfriend is taking me to Spain next month. I think he might pop the question.” She twirled a curl around her finger, eyes sweeping over the ceiling as if the drywall had her Pinterest wedding board projected on it. “Oh. I forgot to ask… Are you sick or something? Need anything?”
Common sense, maybe, with the way I’ve been thinking about my asshole boss.
I frowned. “No, why?”
“No reason.” She tucked her pen behind her ear. “It’s just that I saw your student entering the sauna, so I figured you canceled your class.”
“What do you mean you saw my student?” I scratched my temple. “He was here?”
“He is here.” She cocked her head to the back of the spa. “In the sauna. If he hasn’t evaporated by now.” She giggled. “Been in there for forty minutes.”
Son of a…
He’d made it to the venue but never went in? Why?
I bit the corner of my cheek, cursing my foolishness. I’d forgotten rule number one in life: never expect anything from anyone. It only leads to disappointment.
“Excuse me.” I ramped up my fake smile, already headed to the sauna. “I think I left something back there.”
She frowned. “But you never went in—”
Her voice drifted into the distance with the speed I trotted past her. Latent anger drummed a beat against my veins.
Something else intertwined with it.
Excitement—at the prospect of seeing him in nothing but a towel.
Correction—at the prospect of maiming him in nothing but a towel.
Zach sat alone in the deserted sauna, head pressed against the shadowed wall, oblivious to the Peeping Tom before him.
On my tiptoes, I peered inside through the small square window, pulse ratcheting at the sight of his carefree expression.
He rolled his neck, massaging away a knot in nothing but a white towel. His raven hair dripped sweat across his face. He looked like a bronze god, his biceps and abs bulging and glistening.
The dull ache between my legs intensified, and that was when I realized it had always been there. That it had never really left since I got myself off in his library.
My backpack hit the floor with a soft thud. I pushed the door open and strolled in, still clothed.
Zach’s eyes remained firmly shut, but somehow, he still said, “How did you find me?”
“Followed the stench of wealth.”
“Is this the part where I’m supposed to get offended?”
“This is the part where you tell me why you stood me up.”
Steam slowly seeped into me, marinating with the rage boiling in my veins. The humidity glued my hair to the nape of my neck, dampening my clothes until they clung to my body.
If he opened his eyes, he’d get a front-row view of my nipples saluting him through the white fabric.
He didn’t.
Zach adjusted the rolled towel behind his neck, eyes still closed. “Didn’t feel like seeing your face.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“I think we’ve established I’m not one to joke around.”
Stepping forward, I shook my head. “You can’t just stand me up.”
“I can.” His eyes snapped open, his mood shifting from nonchalant to attentive in 0.2 seconds. “Case in point—I did.”
“If you’d have told me, I could’ve slept in.”
“You couldn’t have, though. You had training with Andras.”
“I could’ve shifted things around.”
“Negatory again. You have work to do, Cinderella.”
“But I—”
He cut me off. “Did you know that the female octopus does not eat or clean herself after giving birth? She dies soon after she tends to her eggs. Males, too, become senescent and expire a few weeks after mating.”
What?
“That’s depressing.” And bizarre. “Thanks for the not-so-fun fact. Anyway, back to the topic—”
“The female octopus can lay as many as four hundred thousand eggs. And she spends her life protecting them, night and day, shielding them with her body before perishing once they hatch.”