Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“I’m just saying Godfrey Brandt was such a caring, wise man. He was always so careful about where he opened his mouth, did his business, and put his dick. He’s one of the few among his peers who I believe remained faithful to one woman. It’s regrettable his grandson can’t say the same. Your grandfather must be rolling over in his grave right now.”
“Cut your shit and leave my grandpa out of it. You’re not getting the goddamned video and I’m not commenting on it.”
“But you keep confirming it exists,” he says in that oily, refined tone I despise.
If he wasn’t such a snake, maybe he’d have the city calling him it’s most eligible billionaire bachelor and Chicago could leave me the hell alone.
Why was I stupid enough to make this call?
“The photos blowing up on your little blog are over three years old. They have to be. Carbon Beach, California was the only vacation we ever took together. It was one big drunken mistake. Another time, another place, another life,” I say, trying to reason with this asshole. “This movie star friend loaned her a private jet with a loaded bar. Carmen convinced me to hop on for the ride. Can’t you just move on? Why is this newsworthy?”
Birdshit laughs darkly.
“I write what my readers want, and my facts are impeccable. Thank you for the history lesson, though. I’ll be sure it gets in the next article,” he sneers. “In this case, sex on the beach wasn’t just a drink, was it? Do you know how many people would kill to see you and Carmen Seraphina up to no good naked? Even with some tactical censoring...my God. I can only imagine the traffic and the ad revenue.”
“Fuck off.” I end the call by slamming my cell on my desk so hard it’s a miracle the screen doesn’t shatter.
Way to go, Nick. Another waste of time.
Tiffany passes my office window, holding Millie’s hand.
Grandma’s office is barely a stone’s throw from mine. Thank God the kid wasn’t in her playroom when I had my tantrum, even if no one can see me in full meltdown through the frosted glass.
I need to watch it. With this kid and Reese counting on me, I’m realizing I’m not the only one affected by my shit anymore.
For the next hour, I do my damnedest to get back to approving designs for Brandt Dreams’ first interior projects when my door swings open. She doesn’t even knock—and why should she when this used to be her kingdom?
I look up. Grandma stands in the doorway, regal as ever.
“If you were ever a sight for sore eyes around here, today’s the day, Grandma,” I say.
“Oh, I just stopped by to see that lovely little hummingbird before checking in with you. She’s so adorable.”
I grin. “I know.”
“How long has she been spending her days here?”
“Just a few.” I motion to the chair across from my desk. “Do you want to sit?” I stand. “My seat’s probably more comfortable. We can trade if you want.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “You can quit treating me like an old lady right now, dear. I’m quite capable of roughing it out without imported leather.”
I don’t point out she’s in her seventies.
“Well, you should sit either way.”
She looks at me for a long moment, her eyes searching. “Did you forget you were supposed to take me to see the Winthrope site?”
Shit. That’s today?
“I’m sorry, Grandma. It’s been a long week. Ready when you are.” I grab my coat on the way out the door.
We slide into the town car together.
Reese turns to see Grandma and beams. “Granny Bea! It’s been forever.”
Grandma smiles at her. “You too, sweetheart. Is that darling creature upstairs truly your niece?”
Reese gives her a quick nod.
“She’s so adorable. I’m happy someone’s finally putting my old office to good use, considering my grandsons act like it’s haunted.”
“I hope it’s no inconvenience,” Reese says sheepishly. “I promise it won’t be like this for long.”
“Pish.” Grandma waves her hand like she’s swatting a fly. “You’re practically family, and that makes young Millie one of us by extension.”
Grandma slaps my leg, turning to face me with a low whisper. “You tell her.”
“She knows I think the kid’s a rockstar,” I say, clearing my throat.
When we arrive at the Winthrope hotel site, a tangle of construction and dreams, I climb out of the car and hold the door open for Grandma.
Once I’ve helped her out, I take her arm and lead her through the gate, into the construction zone.
“Nicholas Brandt, I can walk over a little uneven ground. I told you to quit treating me like an old lady.”
“I’m being the gentleman you always wanted me to be. You could fall. Your heart might be strong enough to handle more hospital visits, Grandma, but mine isn’t.”
“Aren’t you sweet?” She laughs and shakes her head.