Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
But I can’t.
Because deep, deep down I know—what’s best for him, is if I disappear.
With me gone, he can save his reputation. Deny the affair. Pretend I never existed.
As soon as he’s asleep, I’ll creep out of this hotel. Find a place to stay for a few days. Lay low, write my novel. He may look for me at my apartment, but he’s a busy man, and now with damage control to do, he’ll forget about me soon.
He has me finish my meal, reassuring me all along his publicist is working on a plan. That this will all blow over. That I will not be a detriment to his career.
But his face is lined with worry, his gaze heavy.
We lie down, both exhausted from the day. His arm wraps around me tightly, pulling me against his chest. Soon, his breaths are slow, even. He’s asleep.
And I’m leaving.
Picking up his hand, I gently move his arm from my torso.
He gives a grunt, the arm automatically returning.
I wriggle down, trying to escape by going underneath his heavy limb. It works. I shimmy off the end of the bed, tiptoeing to the closet to get dressed.
He’s a heavy sleeper. The sun will rise before he realizes I’m gone.
As I'm slipping on my shoes, I freeze. He’s murmuring my name.
“Katie. My Katie Kat.”
I look over my shoulder, half expecting to find him awake, resting on one elbow, watching me dress.
He’s still fast asleep. He’s mumbling my name in his dreams.
He dreams of me.
Tucking the bittersweet knowledge into my heart, I grab the only real thing of value, my backpack with my laptop, and one bag with my clothes and toiletries, and I make my way to the bedroom door. I see a notepad on his desk and scrawl a quick note.
Giving him one last glance over my shoulder.
My dream daddy. I leave the penthouse, the front door closing behind me without a sound.
Chapter 10
Darius
I turn over in my sleep, but something’s off. I reach my hand out to feel Katie but find the bed strangely empty. I open my eyes, fully awake now, and look around the room for her. Is she in the bathroom? But no, I don’t see her there either.
“Katie?” I sit up in bed, concerned now. Something was off last night, I know it. I throw off the covers and walk out to the living room in my boxers, scrubbing a hand through my hair while I look over to the hot tub, the kitchenette, the dining room table, as if she’ll miraculously appear out of thin air.
I open the bathroom door and call her again, and it isn’t until I get back to the living room that I see a little slip of paper on the side table.
Dear Darius,
I hate that I’ve brought so much trouble to you. I shouldn’t have done this. I’ve contacted Miranda and told her I didn’t fulfill my end of the contract, so you don’t have to pay me. I enjoyed our time together… more than you’ll ever know.
Katie
She’s gone?
There’s a big puffy heart next to her name, as if she’s sending me a message or something.
This is not happening. I’ll have her back here and over my knee as soon as possible. How could she try to pull something like this?
I call her cell, but it goes straight to voicemail. Not a surprise.
Fuck the contract. Fuck the money, and the media, and anyone and everything that’s holding me back from her. I can’t believe she thought so little of herself that she thought it okay for her to leave the safety of my penthouse and take off like this.
I’m going to find that girl, and when I do, she won’t sit for a goddamn week.
I tug on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, skipping the typical suit and tie. Today I’ll be incognito. I shoot a message to Ruth.
Out of the office today. Send all calls to voicemail and only call me if it’s an emergency.
A minute later I get a reply.
Yes, sir. Of course, Mr. Morrow.
I punch angrily at the screen, bringing up my transportation team.
Katie’s driver answers on the first ring. “Yes, Mr. Morrow?”
“Did she call you?”
“Katie, sir?”
I clench my jaw impatiently. “Yes.”
“No, sir. I haven’t heard a word from her.”
I’m not surprised. She went off on her own.
I tell him exactly what I want, in detail. “Bring me a car to the front entrance of the hotel. Make it a small, discreet one.” I’m going looking for her, and I don’t need to drive a Lamborghini or Maserati while I do it.
“Yes, sir.”
Next, I call Nick, the head of security. He answers immediately.
“Mr. Morrow?”
“I want you to scout every security camera I have trained on the penthouse and exits from the hotel.”
“Are you looking for your… lady, sir?”
I stop short. My lady. I like the sound of that, but it fails to capture how I truly feel about her.