Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
It’s so good, much better than I expected, and damn, I do love a good coffee. Best decision I made. I slept like crap last night with my mind going a million miles a minute. Today has been weighing on me. Not knowing how it will go had me tossing and turning all night.
Now, freshly showered, a bit more makeup than usual—I needed it to cover the swollen bags under my eyes—I’m ready to see what he wants from me. I’m dressed in a power suit and my favorite lightweight silk blouse. My clothing is my armor in meetings like this. Walking toward the address I was provided, I take a sip from my drink.
There’s a doorman and even security. I smile at the man behind the desk.
“Ms. Matthews, here to see Mr. Kosta.”
“You can go right up.”
Something tells me he knew I was coming and expected me.
I move past the desk and make my way to the elevator banks. I need to find a place to throw this coffee cup out. I look around, not at all paying attention to where I’m walking when I hit a wall and bounce back.
My heels slip, and I fall backward, the cup in my hand toppling out of my grasp.
I hit the ground with a fierce thud. Hot coffee splatters everywhere, including on my chest.
The liquid is so warm, I frantically pull at my shirt. Buttons fly off the thin fabric and land everywhere as I peel the wet, clinging silk off me.
As soon as the material leaves my body, I instantly feel relief from the burning liquid. But I also feel something else. Cold air. Cold air from an air conditioner that is blasting in the corridor. Hitting my skin because I’m now wearing a completely trashed shirt.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This is such a disaster.
I lift my hands to cover my chest, which is now exposed. My hands cup the damp lace of my bra. A hand reaches out, and that’s when I remember I bumped into someone. My eyes close of their own accord. This can’t be happening.
I’m in a torn shirt in front of whoever I bumped into. I don’t want to look up. I want to curl into a ball and pretend none of this is happening. Which, of course, I can’t do.
“Open your eyes, Ms. Matthews.”
Not him. Please, not him. I would know that gruff voice anywhere.
Fuck, I want to crawl into a hole. I need a ditch that I can disappear into . . . forever.
“Fuck me,” I mutter. I can never face this man again after today.
“Skye . . .” he drawls with a bit of a chuckle. Son of a bitch, he heard me.
No. This is not me. I’m not someone to shy away from a challenge with my tail tucked between my legs. Sure, I’ve embarrassed myself, but this is a momentary setback. Now I need to stop acting like a scared child. I am Skye Matthews, and I’ve lived through hell. I can deal with one asshole drug dealer.
My lids lift. My gaze is hazy at first, but then everything comes into focus, including the shadow of a larger-than-life man and a hand reaching out to help me. I have two choices. I can take his hand or be stubborn and get up by myself. I choose the latter. Bypassing his extended hand, I push off the ground by myself, stand tall, a whopping five foot, two inches, and straighten my back.
I might not be tall, but I can steel my spine until I act like I am. That’s just what I do. Tall and proud, and with a tattered shirt covering me, I pick up the cup.
“Don’t worry about cleaning that. I’ll send someone.” I don’t respond. I give him a nod and then turn back toward the elevator bank, throwing the cup in the trash right outside the doors as they open.
Once they do, I step inside and am not surprised when Tobias enters the elevator with me. This day is going to suck, and it only just started. I look down at my watch: 9:02. I’m officially late.
“You’re late.”
“Gee, really? Thanks for letting me know,” I deadpan.
“I’ll let this time slide, seeing as you were . . . out for coffee.”
I don’t need to look up to hear the smirk on his lips. But for some reason, I do. I regret the decision the second our gazes collide. Because it’s not only a smirk there. There’s another look entirely, and as his eyes look down for a second and caress my skin, I can’t help but shiver.
What the hell was that, Skye?
The elevator door pings open before I can ponder that thought too long. Without waiting for him to speak again, I step off, and once I’m on solid ground, I turn to face him.