Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
“Because I do what I feel is right, not just what I think is right.” His hand ascends into my hair, and mine is on a descent to his back pocket.
Farrow listened to his instincts, and I’ve been ignoring mine that have screamed at me for weeks on end.
A sudden clarity washes over me.
And I say, “I’m cancelling the night with a celebrity.” Content with this choice.
His hold on the back of my head is twice as protective, ten times as comforting. “When did you decide this?” he asks, skimming my features for signs of what I’m feeling.
“Right now.” I look at him. “I’ve been fighting against what I feel is right. Anytime the night with a celebrity is brought up, it’s like a parasite crawling down my body.” I cringe. “I can’t put you through that fucking night. I can’t put my sister or my cousins through that night. I don’t care if you’re all willing to go through with it—something inside of me is pleading with me to just stop.”
Concern narrows his eyes—Farrow looks like he wants to hug the fuck out of me. But with my broken bone, he can only draw closer. “Maximoff.” He whispers my name like he’s caressing each syllable. “Shit, if I’d known you were feeling like that…I thought you were just paranoid.”
I was that, too. “What would’ve you done if you’d known?” I ask, my eyes tracing the wings and crossed swords inked on his neck.
“I would’ve told you that if something is so parasitic that every instinct is screaming at you to stop, then stop. Because at that point, doing it isn’t benefiting what or who you love. It’s hurting something or someone you love.” He runs his hand through my thick hair. “And then I would’ve held you.”
I stare at his mouth for a second, my blood hot. “Or I would’ve held you.”
Farrow doesn’t play into the banter like usual, or even say we would’ve held each other. He’s focused on the crux of my choice. “You’re going to lose your job for real.”
If no one goes through with the night with a celebrity, Ernest Mangold won’t give me a second chance to be reinstated as CEO of H.M.C. Philanthropies.
It doesn’t knock me backwards. I inhale a stronger breath. “I think I’m okay with that.”
Something inside of me has changed. I can’t tell you if it’s being in love or almost dying or maybe I’m just getting older—but something in me is different. And being CEO of my company doesn’t feel as important anymore.
I also recognize that I’m leaving my family’s wealth in the hands of a prick. But Charlie is still on the H.M.C. board, and I need to trust that he’ll take care of our families.
I’m letting go.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask him.
His eyes brush my cheekbones. “You look more unburdened, and now there’s no porn star run-in. This is win-win any way you turn it.”
I think about Ace Steel. How he was a straight porn star. I don’t get it. “I wonder what Ace Steel wanted—”
“You don’t need to wonder,” Farrow interjects.
Off my confusion, he reaches behind his back and then he guides my hand that has slowly crept towards his back pocket into said pocket.
The ass-grab doesn’t make sense…until I feel the outline of a card. This is what Farrow must’ve taken from the end table earlier. Which I theorized was a condom.
Not a condom.
A business card.
“That dickhole told me what he wanted when we were at the auction,” Farrow explains. “It’s why I wanted to talk to you in private in the first place. The topic just kept getting derailed.”
I read the card and immediately freeze at the name: Sensual Flixxxs. “This porn company used to call me a hundred times when I turned eighteen. I had to block their number.” I look up at Farrow.
His jaw hardens. “I figured. Apparently they sent Ace on their behalf to convince you to do a scene. He said the company thought he’d be able to sell you on the idea since he’s a sex worker and not a producer.”
I scowl. “They really thought I’d fuck someone else even though I’m with you?”
“No.” Farrow lets out a short, vexed laugh at the memory. “He told me—and I quote—‘Sexual Flixxxs wants to film you fucking Maximoff Hale in the ass’, and I said they could film me fracturing Ace’s cock with a hammer.”
Since Farrow is literal a lot of the time, that threat or offer seems more real than mine would’ve been. Though, I think I would’ve just punched the porn star.
My face twists as I process. “So they spent millions of dollars on me, just for a meeting? In hopes that we’d agree to fuck on camera, and what…they hoped to make a profit on the video? It’s an insane gamble.”