Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
And he’s single for a reason.
He chooses to be.
I’m standing at the sink in the hotel robe, my makeup done but my hair wet when Ethan joins me. “That took longer than expected. I called Harper and got your meeting pushed thirty minutes. I want us to have time to enjoy breakfast.” He pulls off his shirt and steps behind me, his hard body pressed to mine, his eyes finding mine in the mirror.
“How many hotel rooms have you been in with men?”
My eyes go wide, defensiveness erupting inside me. I try to turn, but he holds me steady. I exhale and meet his eyes again. “None. Ever. How many women have you been in hotel rooms with?”
“Too many, Sofia, but with not one of them did I hold them when we slept, or ran with them the morning after, or even shared a cup of coffee. Ever. I don’t do things like this.”
My heart is thumping and running. “You keep saying things like that, and it makes me feel like you want me to leave.”
“That’s just it, Sofia. I don’t want you to leave. I really don’t want you to leave.” He nuzzles my neck and says, “Come to Paris with me.”
I’m tingling all over, inside and out, and I cup his head. “The contract—”
“No matter what,” he says. “Even if you say no to the contract.”
This time when I try to rotate, he lets me, and I stare up at him, searching his face. “You want—”
“Very much. And if this Moore’s thing doesn’t work out, my friend will still mentor you. I’ll open doors for you.”
My hands fly up. “No. No, see, this is what I didn’t want. I don’t want you to think I am here because of something you can do for me, Ethan. I’m not. I got the Moore’s invite to Hawaii without you. I can make my own path.”
“I can’t not help you, Sofia.”
“There are ways to help me that do not require you to open doors for me. For instance, give me advice and cheer me on, but don’t do it for me. I’m making my own path. I want to know I earn what I get. And God, oh God, please tell me this isn’t all charity—”
“It’s not. It’s not. Nothing before you is going to be easy or free. The six-week mentorship you landed will be hard as hell.”
“You mean, the mentorship you got me?”
“By showing your work. Your work is why you got the mentorship.”
“Really?” I ask, a thrill inside me at this honor.
“Yes. But this is not an easy path to take. You’ll work for every bit of praise you get, and if you earn the endorsement, you’ll be made. If you do not, you’ll struggle to overcome it. And you need to know that.”
“I can live with all of that. Happily and eagerly. But Ethan, it’s very important to me that I earn my place in life, and you don’t make it for me. One is not the same as the other. I appreciate your help, but I need this for me. And I think I’m here right now because, deep down, you know that’s who I am, and you need that from me. I’m not here for what you can do for me. I’m here because—because of what I feel when I’m with you.”
His eyes darken, and there is a pulse in the air between us. “What do you feel when you’re with me, Sofia?”
The one word that comes to me is exactly what I say. “Alive. You make me feel alive.”
His expression softens, and he cups my face and stares down at me. “God, woman, what are you doing to me?” He brushes his lips over mine. “You make me feel alive, too, baby. I better shower. We have breakfast reservations.”
I nod, and he stares down at me several more beats before he steps away. I watch him undress and step inside the shower—a perfect display of male beauty. I’m terrified of how hard I’m falling for him, but I am powerless to stop the fall. I’m there. I’m so there for this man. I know he’ll hurt me. I know I’ll be destroyed.
But I can’t seem to care anymore.
Chapter Thirty-Six
There is an intimacy to getting dressed and ready for the day with Ethan that far exceeds anything else we have done together. The random touches of our bodies. The way our eyes collide in the mirror. I’m still in my robe, finishing my make-up, when he steps beside me in front of the mirror, looking all hot businessman in a starched white shirt and his suit pants, his jaw freshly shaved, his eyes a brighter blue than usual.
His tie hangs loose, and when he reaches for it, I slide in front of him. “I’ll do it.”