Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Good. Yes. Thank you, my good man.”
Bash’s lips twitched. “Sleep well, Rowe,” he said softly, taking my empty plate before turning and losing himself in the crowd.
Oh my stars and garters. What did I just agree to?
My phone dinged as I made my way toward the exit.
Joey: Dude, you didn’t tell me the rivalry in this fast food delivery game was so fucking intense. So help me, if that Sandwich Shark gets up in my grill with his doo doo doo song one more time…
Me: Can you cover my shift again tomorrow? I will owe you BIG TIME.
Joey: Yeah, I can do that. Guess that means we’re not celebrating yet?
Me: No. Ha. Definitely not.
Joey: Damn. Well, could be worse, cuz! At least you’re not drowning.
I wasn’t so sure about that. I’d felt like I was in over my head even before learning I’d need to become a polo expert overnight. And when Bash looked at me, I got a breathless adrenaline rush, like I was in danger and sinking fast.
My supposed personal assistant was seriously magnetic. The kind of man who made me want to empty my pockets and give him everything I had… which was a problem since I had absolutely nothing to give. And if and when the man found out I wasn’t actually his mysterious, world-traveling boss, he would not be happy.
If we’d been any other two people, at any other time, I’d have pushed the gorgeous man up against the wall in that tiny, shadowed alcove and kissed the smile off his lips. I’d have caressed the broad shoulders hidden under his tux, and done—
Shit. Considering how little experience I had with guys, I wasn’t sure what I’d do, exactly. But I had a laundry list of dirty fantasies, so maybe I’d bring them to life one at a time. Sink to my knees on the hard floor while he kept the hot force of his attention on me the entire ti—
“Good heavens!” a woman yelped in a high-pitched voice as I crashed into her, too lost in my fantasy to realize where I was going.
Cold champagne seeped through my shirt, down my pants, and onto the floor, then splashed back onto the frothy skirt of the woman I’d nearly mowed down.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” I gasped in horror. That dress probably cost more than I earned at Burrito Bandito in a year.
I pulled the handkerchief from my breast pocket to soak up the liquid… and kept pulling… and pulling. Brightly colored gossamer scarves spilled out, along with the stack of white business cards I’d stuck in there. For a moment, they soared through the air like butterflies, then flitted to the damp ground, where they landed in a soggy heap… along with my dreams of leaving the party without causing another scene.
Several people around me clapped politely.
My face flamed, but I gathered all of the cards and scarves as quickly as I could and sketched another bow, like this had all been a part of my act.
“Sterling Chase bids you all a good night,” I announced as I swept out of the room, raced for the building’s exit, and made my way to the subway that would bounce me back to Queens.
What had I been saying to Joey earlier about a little embarrassment being worthwhile? I’d lied. Surely there had to be a better, easier way to get this meeting with Justin. Something with fewer lies, less electrically charged lust-haze, less promise of impending disaster.
Or you could live a little, Rowe. My sister’s voice in my head was snarky and loving in equal measure, just as she had been in life, and I couldn’t help pressing on the tattoo on my hip—the one that I’d gotten for her. Do the brave, exciting thing. Don’t be scared.
Daisy would have laughed herself breathless over tonight’s events, but she’d never get the chance, and that was why I had to live for both of us.
For her sake, I could do anything. Be anything.
A burrito deliverer.
An accidental magician.
Even a fucking polo player if I had to be.
“I’m Sterling Chase, Quirky Billionaire,” I whispered and willed myself to believe it.
FOUR
BASH
“His name is Thomas Rowe Prince.” Kenji clicked a button on his tablet, and Rowe’s picture appeared on my office wall screen. “He’s twenty-four, from Linden, Indiana, no college degree, no criminal record, pitifully small bank balance, and he’s currently working under the table delivering fast food. Sent the full report to your email and the group chat.”
I sat back in my leather chair and stared at the DMV photo from several years ago. That was definitely the man I’d met last night. Same enormous, innocent eyes. Same sweet, slightly rounded features. Same brown hair, though the man in the picture kept his ruthlessly tidy.
But there was something different about him, too. Despite the horrible lighting, the person in the photo looked confident and carefree, while the guy I’d met last night had seemed… well, nervous as fuck.