Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
With a sigh, he put his drink down and turned to her just as she said, “I had a hell of a day. Bloody manufacturers. Why can’t they follow simple directions for a simple little black dress?” She didn’t wait for him to respond before signaling the bartender. “A cosmopolitan.”
The bartender barely remembered how to do his job, he was so busy drooling over Katrina. And he certainly didn’t seem to have noticed that she had left the word please off her drink order.
Malcolm studied her in what felt like a scientific way. Yes, there was no denying that she was stunningly beautiful. But when he really looked closely, it was abundantly clear that she was missing that special glow—the light that Josie had. One that came from the inside. One that came from saying please and thank you. One that came from someone who didn’t expect the world to shower her with riches and adoration simply because genetics had given her a face and body that were the epitome of today’s version of beauty.
He tried to shake the thoughts about Josie out of his head. After all, he was here with his girlfriend, even if she wouldn’t be for much longer. While he wasn’t going gaga over her like every other man in the room, he didn’t feel right about disrespecting her. After all, he’d been brought up to treat everyone with respect, no matter who they were or where they came from. And apart from that horrible night at the high school dance in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, there weren’t many times where he could look back and wish that he had behaved better.
Katrina narrowed her gaze on him, almost as though she could read his mind and knew that she wasn’t having her desired effect on him. He found himself suddenly thinking about their sex life. How she would pose, as if she always wanted to present only her perfect angles to him.
But sex shouldn’t be about perfect angles. It should be about having a damn good time and forgetting everything else.
Thinking back, he wasn’t sure they had ever had that good a time together.
“You look like you have something on your mind,” she noted.
He shrugged. “A big deal almost fell through, but thankfully, I pulled it off at the eleventh hour.” He picked up his drink and downed the rest of it, gesturing to the bartender for another.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re king of the business world. What would it matter if you lost a deal?” She didn’t wait for his response. “Not that you ever would. Everybody kowtows to you, the great Malcolm Sullivan.” She put the word great in air quotes, already angry with him about something, even before the breaking-up part of their evening. “The whole world is always at your feet.”
Yes, he thought as they both got their drinks and the maître d’ approached to take them to their table, there was definitely a bitter edge to her tonight. Almost as though she sensed impending doom. He brightened inside. Maybe she was planning to break up with him. That would be a sweet relief.
They were led to a table in the middle of the room, the prime spot to see and be seen. But Malcolm was sick of always having to be on what felt like a stage. What he wouldn’t have given just to be seated in a quiet corner. To have a conversation without everybody looking. To sit and listen in on other people’s conversations. Or to just quietly eat his meal and drink his drink without anyone giving a damn who he was or what he could do for them.
He almost laughed out loud at his thoughts. Between his attitude at the airport and his current mood, he was certain playing the grumpy-git card today. His mother would tell him off, and rightly so, while his father would suggest he go for a run to let off some steam.
That was exactly what he’d do tonight. After dinner, he’d go back to his place to change into his running clothes, and then he’d hit the dark streets of London as hard and fast as he could. Until there were no more thoughts, just the press of breath moving in and out of his lungs and his heartbeat pounding like a bass drum in his ears.
“I still need to pack for Thailand,” Katrina said after they’d ordered.
She’s chosen a plate of undressed greens topped with a tiny piece of something vegan. He’d ordered a steak, which had prompted a very disapproving look. She wanted him to be vegan. He respected vegans, whatever their reasons for eating that way, but he didn’t want to be one.
“Are you packed?” she asked.
He paused before answering. He didn’t relish this part. Even though Katrina had a hard edge to her, her emotions were as real as anyone’s. His mother had raised him to care about other people’s feelings, even if sometimes it didn’t seem like he did.