Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Can I give you an answer tomorrow?”
If I learned anything from my brief relationship with Ark, it is that living life in the fast lane doubles your odds of crashing.
“Of course.” Val gathers up the documents from our meeting before heading for the door.
Since Mrs. Whitten didn’t want to encourage other employees to break the nonfraternization policy with the hope of a “massive payout,” our meeting this morning was held in one of the communal offices in the lobby. This one is poky, and the ventilation is horrid, but since it is surrounded by two-way mirrors, my second dressing-down was done without witnesses.
I fling my eyes to Val when she asks, “Do you need a ride home?”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “I was just going to hang around until Tillie finishes school. It’ll save an extra bus fare.”
When a shameful sigh rumbles in my chest, Val smiles at me like I’m not pathetic. “Take all the time you need, both now and with the job offer.”
She strays her eyes around three of the rooms circling the surveillance-type pod. Numerous cleaning staff are polishing silverware for an upcoming event. My heart wants to pretend it is clueless who is hosting the first gala in the Chrysler building in over a decade, but my head is cruel and vindictive. It has reminded my heart a hundred times already about Ark’s upcoming birthday celebration, and it has been barely seventy-two hours since I last saw him.
“You’re better than this, Mara,” Val says, forcing my focus back to her. “You always have been.”
After a second smile, she leaves me alone to ponder.
I watch my once-coworkers for several minutes while considering Mrs. Whitten’s new job offer. The delivery Ark must have organized before he decided I wasn’t worth his time anymore will keep our tummies full for months, but it won’t help with the rent and utilities for my apartment.
Without stable income, I’ll go under in less than a month, so I have no choice. I have to stuff my tail between my legs and accept Mrs. Whitten’s scraps until I find something more suitable.
It isn’t ideal, but again, I am still better off than some people.
I could have to buy votes instead of achieving them in a respectful way.
I sigh heavily, hating my vindictiveness.
I know Ark’s game plan. He spelled it out in black and white only days ago, but it hurt like hell when I saw a news article this morning about his rekindling relationship with Veronika.
Val was quick to snatch up records I am no longer privy to see, but she wasn’t fast enough for me to miss Veronika’s name back on the guest register of Ark’s apartment.
Since I am no longer a part of that team, I’m clueless as to whether her room is still the one on the opposite side of Ark’s apartment, or if she shifted her things into the main room.
Just contemplating them being cozy has me reconsidering my intent to work in this building. It hurt reading a headline. I wouldn’t survive witnessing it in person.
I’m so worked up that I tear my jacket while stuffing my arms into the openings. My coat is old and from several seasons ago, but I’m on the verge of crying while taking in the unrepairable tear, and the probability worsens when the hairs on my nape suddenly stand to attention.
A shadowed figure is blocking the entryway of the only room not taken up by cleaning staff. Although my body shouldn’t know who the figure is, it identifies him two seconds before a light flicking on reveals a face I’ve missed ogling the past three days.
Ark enters the conference room from the entrance I used to serve him coffee. He isn’t alone. Veronika is at his side, wearing a dress similar to the one I saw her pictured in earlier today. It clings to her curves, and with its coloring pairing with Ark’s swanky tie, they represent the perfect powerhouse couple Ark wants the media to believe they are.
My molars grind when Veronika cozies into Ark’s side like she’s afraid of entering a room without a big, strong man at her side.
Her damsel-in-distress routine is cut short when Ark thanks her for her assistance before freeing himself from her clutch. “I’ll have Rafael organize a car for you.”
She pouts at him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Her voice is irritating, and I’m glad I don’t need to hide my grimace like Ark. The two-way mirror I’m camped behind hides it on my behalf.
I hear Ark’s frustration in his tone, but the velvety rasp of his voice still scalds my skin like UVs on a hot summer’s day when he says, “I’m sure. This should only take a minute. Then we can…”
A current zaps through me when his eyes suddenly snap to the two-way mirror. The sparks his stare instigate are electric, sending heat roaring through me.