Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“That’s all for now.”
She backed out of the room, her expression demure and her body language inviting.
As soon as the door closed I scoffed. “Please don’t sleep with her.”
“While you enjoy broadcasting your private business, Meyers, mine is not up for discussion. I’ll keep whatever company I want.”
“She’s barely twenty, Remington.”
“She’s twenty-three.”
“And how old is Miles?”
He frowned. “I haven’t a clue.”
“Exactly. Why do you even know her age?”
“She told me.”
“Because you asked?”
“What’s your point?”
“It must get tiring always having to pour their milk and cut their meat.” I was surprised she didn’t add on a few months and say she was twenty-three and a half.
He filled the shaker with ice. “You’re being especially judgmental today.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Why couldn’t he be satisfied with his long-term girlfriend, Odette? I liked Odette. She was normal. Very different from his batshit crazy wife who he kept stashed far away in the south of France.
He poured vodka over the ice, capped the shaker, and rattled it loudly. Poking at me, he smirked. “She did tell me she’s a Sagittarius.”
“Oh, my God.” Horoscopes were not the way into a man like Remington’s heart. “And you kept a straight face?”
He glanced over his shoulder, filling the martini glass with the accuracy of James Bond. “I’m a gentleman, first, and a critic, second, Meyers.”
“You’re a horny old man who likes pretty toys.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He crossed the room and handed me a martini.
“I can’t.”
He scowled. “Why the hell not?”
“The doctor said I’m not supposed to drink right now.”
“That’s not until you get pregnant, Meyers. Alcohol’s historically proven to help make that happen. Drink it.”
I took the cold glass from him, mostly because I didn’t feel like arguing. My gaze drifted over its cloudy contents to the clock on the wall as I sipped. Ten a.m.
Remington returned to his desk with a matching martini. “I never tried to get any of my wives pregnant.”
Remington got more than a few wives pregnant over the years. Although, technically, Jasmine—Hale’s beautiful-cheating-manipulative-ex-girlfriend and Elara’s biological mother—was now married to Remington as part of a legal hush settlement. But I was sure there were plenty of other accidental whoopsies over the years. There seemed an endless line of gold diggers who looked at Remington Davenport like a retirement plan. His age never seemed to matter to any of them.
But for me, he was just a friend, a boss, and a father figure. “We don’t know if the issue’s with me or Hale.”
“That’s your problem, Meyers. You worry too much.” He sipped and flinched. “What the hell kind of olives does she have stocked?” His finger punched into the receiver on his desk, and he barked, “Sophie, where did you get these olives?”
“At the Winn-Dixie, sir.”
He shook his head. “I order my olives from Southern Europe. Get on the computer and get me some …”
“Spanish Queens,” I provided, knowing far more about this man than anyone should.
“Spanish Queens,” he snapped, then disconnected the intercom. Fishing out his sad little olive, he examined it and tossed it back into his glass. “No one cares about the minor details anymore.”
I set my martini down and went back to slouching. There were no answers for me here, but Remington had comfortable furniture, and at the moment, I felt safe and hidden in his oversized chair. His office was my favorite place to procrastinate.
“Schedule the tests, Meyers. Then, when you see nothing’s wrong, you can unload that worry and get back to old-fashioned fucking.”
I winced. “Remington.”
“Are we pretending a stork’s going to bring the baby? Grow up. Babies come from fucking. Just keep having sex, and you’ll get it right one of these times.”
Why did men simplify everything down to sex? “Well, you’ve been no help at all.”
“Last time I helped, I got in trouble. Something tells me your other half would prefer you not share these details with me.”
He was right. Hale was very private, especially where his intrusive father was concerned. “On that note…” I stood and waved a hand at the documents I brought in with me. “Your reports are finished and I emailed over the stats on the Highlander deal. I’m still waiting on the analytics for the new account, but everything else is done.”
“Don’t let that Davis fella push you around, Meyers. He told us we’d have the analytics by Tuesday, and it’s now Wednesday. We're taking our business elsewhere if he doesn’t have something in your inbox. Show him you have sharp teeth behind that smile. It’ll feel good to take your frustrations out by firing someone.”
I hated letting people go, so it was more likely to add to my stress than anything else. I had checked my emails while waiting at the doctor’s office that morning, and I already knew Davis hadn’t emailed the analytics report yet.
“Let’s just give him until—”