Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Tall, Dark, and Probably a Billionaire passed by me with the dog, shooting me a cynical smile. His eyes were flatlined, devoid of any warmth or emotion. “Guess you’re the unlucky girl. My condolences.” He tipped an imaginary hat and left.
Which was when everybody collectively realized I was there and the commotion started.
I tried not to let the fact I looked like a soggy sock bother me. After all, I couldn’t give a toss what they all thought, could I?
“You must be Duffy.” The man next to Riggs stood up, sticking out his hand. “I’m Christian. Congratulations.”
“What for?” I inquired politely, shaking his hand.
He let out a delighted laugh, jerking his thumb in my direction. “I like her.”
“Oh my God, is she here?” The dark-haired woman traipsed out of my bathroom, the wipe bag in her hand now empty. She looked glamorous and wore this season’s Valentino, and I wondered just where Riggs had found these fancy mates of his.
“Hello, I’m Arya, Christian’s wife. I’ve heard so much about you. Thanks for taking him off our hands.”
She reached to shake my hand. I complied on autopilot.
Why on earth did these people talk like we were a real couple? And how could she possibly hear about me? Riggs and I didn’t know each other.
“I’d say my pleasure, but I’m not sure that it is.” I glanced around me, shell shocked.
The blonde woman returned with a much-cleaner Louie in her arms. “Howdy, I’m Winnie. Arsène’s wife.”
Who is Arsène? Am I even in the right flat?
She put the (now clothed) toddler down and hugged me. I froze in her embrace, overwhelmed with good intentions and compliments. These people needed to be gone. I still had to shower, doll up, cry hysterically, redo my makeup, and drive BJ to the airport.
“Riggs?” I asked through a tight smile. “May I speak to you privately?”
“Sure, if we can find somewhere private in this shoebox.” He raised his eyebrows à la I’m in trouble (which won him some laughs) and swaggered my way. I proceeded into my bedroom. He closed the door behind him, then leaned against it. When I turned around to face him, the force of his beauty hit me like a freight train.
I reminded myself he was a corrupted man of questionable scruples. If anything, he was distastefully good looking. It was appalling, really. I was certain you couldn’t look like that and not be a professional knobhead. And he was. He’d had an affair with a married woman.
Confident I’d got myself sufficiently riled up against him, I proceeded to pick a fight.
“How dare you?” I exploded.
He stared at me, puzzled. “How dare I . . . ?”
“Throw a party in my flat!”
“It’s not a party. Just a gathering of a few old friends. ’Sides, you were the one who said ‘Mi casa es tu casa,’ kid.” He ruffled my hair with a laugh, like I was an adorable pup.
“I’ve never said that!” I waved my balled fists in his face, frantic with rage. “Mi casa will never be tu casa. Tu has no casa. This was what landed both of us in this unfortunate situation. All I said was you could crash on my sofa, rent-free. This place is not designed to entertain.”
A skeptical smile tickled the corners of his lips. His crate-size dimples made a guest appearance. My goodness, he was a treat to look at. Maybe not a treat. A full-blown dessert. Perhaps . . . a five-tier cake? Yeah, that sounded about right.
I couldn’t recognize myself in my attraction to him. I wasn’t the same obsessively ambitious girl who studied her way to a full scholarship at Cambridge so she could buy herself a one-way ticket from poverty through career opportunities and the chance to bag herself a rich husband.
With Riggs, I was different. Impulsive. Emotional . . . quite frankly, a mess.
“Why not? Don’t worry, I made sure the body bags were tucked all the way behind the frozen meats in the freezer.”
“It’s too small!” I stomped. I’d never let myself stomp with BJ. It was so unbecoming.
“Welcome to New York.” He spread his arms. “Where dreams are big and the real estate is minuscule.”
“I’m too tidy for company,” I whined. Another first I wasn’t used to doing.
“Tidy is a trait, not a quality. I’m ridding you of bad habits. Thank me later.”
“Well, it’s mine!” I cried out, ready to throttle him. “Tell them to bugger off. I’ve got to jump in the shower.”
“What for? You already seem pretty wet to me.”
“Oh, you arse!” I shoved at his chest. Well, this was a mistake. His pecs were magnificent. I actually felt the individual ridges between them. And I couldn’t make him budge an inch. “I have to drive BJ to the airport.”
“Shame. My friends really wanted to meet you.” He seemed genuine, which was quite disturbing.