Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
She stands up shakily, and I force myself not to rush to her and sweep her up. She doesn’t need that right now. It wouldn’t be right in any version of any contract or any other scenario where we’re involved. She wouldn’t be just a client again. Even though it takes all my control, I sit my ass right down here in this seat. And I don’t budge.
“I think a bath sounds nice,” she murmurs.
“Perfect. I’ll have the contract ready and waiting for you when you’re finished. Take all the time you want.”
I never said I wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole, did I?
Even still, I can barely deal with the flash of unconcealed hurt in those blue eyes before she turns away.
I give her over an hour in the bath. I’d give her all the time in the world, but that’s as long as she takes. I already have the standard close or personal protection officer contract ready. I pulled it up in under a second. I use it so often that in the long list of contracts and files I have saved on my phone, it’s at the top.
I wait in the kitchen. I feel like it’s the least I can do to give her privacy and show her that in this, I respect her. She didn’t choose to have this happen. She didn’t choose to have her life stolen, derailed, and scammed. She might have dealt with it better, but now I’m dealing with it. I’ve always had a team behind me, and I’ll have everyone working double time now that I’ve heard her truth. I believe her truth, and I’m going to make it right, even if it means getting involved in ways I never saw coming or thought possible.
Too involved.
No, that’s not a thing. People like you don’t get too involved in anything. You don’t have the capacity for it because you’ve shut that shit right the hell down.
But then.
But then, Ignacia walks into the kitchen in a fuzzy green robe with mermaid scales on the hood and arms and matching green fuzzy pants. Her wet hair is not combed out or even dried very well, and she’s dripping all over and flushed from what must have been a very hot bath. Her eyes are also brighter than they were before she went in. I knew a bath would fix a lot. I just didn’t know how much.
I also didn’t realize she’d emerge looking like a freshly reborn sea creature. A seahorse. A mermaid. No, a selkie. Hmm, no. A siren. That’s the sea creature that calls men to their death. Yeah, she looks like one of those, even though I have no idea what they look like. They’re probably haunting, alluring, soaking wet, and gorgeous. And they probably have the ability to make a man hard in under a second flat.
Because I am. Again. It’s an annoyance I’ve never had the displeasure of not being able to control before. Also, I don’t want it to be visible. TMI, but thank goodness I’m hung the way I’m hung because even rock fucking solid, my dick doesn’t stick straight out. These sweatpants do incredible damage control. Sitting down, they didn’t control jack shit at all, but upright? We’re good. I do a double downward doubletake just to be sure. Yup, not visible.
She twists her hands in front of her waist without looking at me. “Is the contract done? Can I sign it, and then we can go to bed?”
That shouldn’t sound dirty. My mind shouldn’t go to something sweet and innocent like cuddling her after the world came at her. I’m the one keeping it at bay, literally, because it’s my job. I’ve been contracted left and right to be here. But it still doesn’t involve holding her.
“Yes.” Oh, look at me. Grunting out that word. I whip out my phone before more language has to become a thing. “But I need to ask. Are you sure? You’re sure you had nothing to do with it?” I’m too insistent. It’s too much.
I’ve sideswiped her like one of those guys on the scooters who comes out of nowhere, riding down the sidewalk, and then bam! They take you right out, backflip head-over-arse style.
Instead of getting misty-eyed and weepy, she narrows her eyes, and I see fury forming in them. It’s anger that I just had the nerve to doubt her. To ask her twice and not believe her. She looks at me like I’m one of those men. One of those who doesn’t believe a woman when she says something, one of those who doubt a person’s truth, even when it’s coming from their heart because my heart is all wonky and half-formed. “I had nothing to do with any of it. Not even a little.”
Ignacia takes the phone in her small hands, scrolls down, and swipes her finger across the line on the screen. I should insist she signs properly and initials after reading.