Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
I grinned at Wakefield. “She forced you to bring it to me, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did, Ms. Howard.”
Chuckling, I took the plate and coffee. “Thank you, Wakefield.”
“Very good, Ms. Howard.” He retreated from the office with a nod.
Eyeballing the shortbread, I murmured, “What the hell.” I’d burned calories last night. My skin heated remembering the way North had powered into me and the way I’d turned mindless and wanting beneath his hands. Never in a million years did I think I’d be able to get out of my head long enough to let go this much in bed. Honestly, it was more than a minor miracle. I didn’t think I could switch off like that for just anyone.
Making yummy noises as I ate my shortbread, I logged into my work inbox and swept over the subject lines of the first few emails. One caught my eye because it was from an address I didn’t recognize and the subject line was Urgent: Ardnoch Estate Inquiry.
Clicking it open, it took my brain a second to catch up with my body because my heart was already racing with incredulity and anger.
The email read:
To Whom It May Concern,
It’s incumbent upon me to make you aware that your estate manager, Aria Howard, is an overweight smear on the reputation and image of such an illustrious club as Ardnoch. Nepotism is an ugly thing when it puts your reputation at stake. You may want to rethink the hiring of an intellectually deficient fat girl that Lucas Grant dumped. Rumor has it she’s as frigid as she is stupid. Not to mention superior, unfriendly, and a bitch to your members. If you want a fat, nasty moron running your estate, have at it. But I think we both know Ardnoch deserves better. We’re paying a lot for membership. Don’t you think we should get what we’re paying for?
Yours sincerely,
A Disgruntled Member
The words fat, frigid, and moron kept jumping out of the email at me as I scanned it again and again, trying to make sense of it. My cheeks burned with rage and mortification as I cross-checked the email with our members’ files. There was no match. Racking my brain, I tried to think if I’d had an unpleasant encounter with any of the members, but none sprang to mind. The only person was North, and while I may not fully trust him, I didn’t for one second believe he’d send an email like this to anyone.
The other option was that it wasn’t a member. However, my email address wasn’t public. Of course, that meant little. Caitlyn got a hold of it, so clearly anyone could.
But this person knew exactly what buttons to press if they wanted to hurt me.
Why were people so goddamn awful?
My mouse hovered over the delete button, but ultimately I was smart about it and created a new folder in my inbox and filed the email away.
Just like that, the anonymous troll had ruined my amazing morning.
I jolted in my seat as my desk phone rang. The screen told me it was security. Wonderful. What now? “Aria speaking,” I answered tonelessly.
“Ms. Howard.” Walker’s familiar gravelly voice sounded down the line. “Have you seen the news this morning?”
I felt a pang of worry as I brought up my web browser. “No, what’s going on?”
“We may need to prepare for the paps returning to the estate. North Hunter is in the news again.”
I hit the speaker on the desk phone so I could free my hands to type. Sure enough, as soon as I searched North’s name, new headlines appeared on the screen. I scanned them, my pulse racing on his behalf. Someone had leaked the CCTV footage of the night North’s friends attacked the homeless man.
“Does North know?”
“I don’t know. Have you seen the footage?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to. “No.”
“Be prepared if you do. It’s difficult to watch.”
Sucking in a breath, I clicked play on the video. Someone had digitally circled a young boy as he stood back from the others who beat on Gil MacDonald. I’d heard the story directly from North, but actually seeing it, seeing how small he was, broke my heart. I watched as he dove into the crowd of boys, pushing them off the man and getting into a rough tussle with whom I assumed was Darren Menzies. The other boys joined in, beating North. Gil took that opportunity, just as North had said, to run, but the boys abandoned their fight with North to chase after him. North staggered to his feet, clearly badly beaten, and chased after them. The footage switched to a different CCTV camera where you could see Darren chasing Gil into traffic. I flinched as the van hit him.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, my heart aching for North.
The article focused on exonerating North, but it didn’t matter. They were dredging it up again, making him relive this thing that had scarred him deeply.