Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
What I don't anticipate is the absolute chaos of the crowd trying to leave through two small doors. I'm ready to tear my hair out ten minutes later when I finally manage to shove through the throngs of people and into the hotel lobby again. I can almost let out a breath of relief.
Except somehow, Claude has managed to catch up with me. He's leaning against the wall near the doors, casually scrolling through his phone. I turn to go in the opposite direction, hoping to flee unnoticed, but then he looks up and catches my eye.
"Ellie!" he shouts.
I grit my teeth. "Claude," I reply, trying to sound cheery. "How's your face?"
Fury flashes over his expression before he quickly controls it, smoothing down his suit jacket in a calming gesture. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. To apologize for how forward I was last night. Not that it excuses your … boss' abominable behavior, but I didn't know you two were sleeping together."
His words, blunt and dripping with disdain, have me both embarrassed and pissed off at the same time. "How dare you assume—"
"Is it a lie?"
"It's none of your damn business is what it is!"
Claude shrugs one large shoulder. "If Drake wants to pay someone to both be his assistant and warm his bed, who am I to judge? I just got the impression you weren't that kind of woman."
I see red, my anger flaring bright and hot. "Listen here, you smug bastard—" I start, ready to tear into him. A few other people in the lobby turn to look at us in alarm, and I inhale deeply, trying to center myself and find some control. "He is not paying me to sleep with him, okay? Again, not that it's any of your damned business, but any personal relationship I have with Drake is outside of our working relationship."
"Oh. So you don't mind that he's having brunch with another woman right this second?" Claude asks.
I open my mouth, then snap it shut again. What the hell did he just say? "Brunch? With another woman?"
Claude shrugs again, that insufferable grin still on his face. "Yes. My assistant was picking up a coffee for me and sent me this picture. After what happened last night, he thought I would find it very interesting."
Claude holds his phone up, and no matter how much I want to deny it, the proof is right here on the screen—Drake sitting across from a tall, dark-haired woman who is certainly not journalist Kenneth Hopper. She has her head tilted back, laughing, and Drake is relaxed and grinning. They look cozy, even from the distance of the photo.
A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, and I swallow hard. "I see," I say quietly, my voice sounding strained to my own ears. "I'm sure it's just a business associate."
"Ah, Ellie, but wait. It's a video."
Before I can spare myself and turn away, he hits the play button on the screen and the video starts. Above the sounds of the crowded cafe, I can hear Drake's deep voice cutting through. I would recognize it anywhere.
"Ellie was just my assistant—"
The video ends as abruptly as it began, but the damage is done. I swallow hard, pushing the bile rising up my throat back down. "You know what, Claude? Go to hell."
Claude's smirk only grows. "What's the matter, Ellie? Upset that Drake is fucking someone else?"
I want to slap that smug look right off his face, but I can feel tears building behind my eyes, and I refuse to let them fall in front of Claude. Instead, I whirl around, intent on finding Drake. I manage to hold them in until I'm at the door of the cafe, and then I see them, still entrenched in their meal and each other's company. He ditched an interview to be with this woman. He lied to me.
My chest heaves, and the tears fall, and I know I'm going to start ugly sobbing if I don't get out of here right now. I take off as fast as my legs can carry me. I don't stop, running as fast as I can until I'm back at our suite, shaking as I lock myself into our room.
All at once, I sob, ashamed that I didn't rush the happy couple and make a scene right in the middle of the cafe like Drake deserved and heartbroken that I was stupid enough to fall for him. I look at the bed where we spent so much time just hours ago, now freshly made by housekeeping, and want to puke.
But I can't fall to pieces. If I'm just an assistant to Drake, then that's all he'll ever get of me. I will never open myself up to be hurt by him again.
Actually, no. Fuck that. If he thinks he can sleep with me, take my virginity, and toss me to the curb, then he won't get assistant Ellie either. He will get none of me.