Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“Careful who you admire,” I say. “You might choose wrong. Is that what this is? You chose wrong?”
“No. Cole, I didn’t—”
A car pulls up next to us and the back window rolls down. Tara pokes her head out. “Get in.”
“Let’s go,” I order.
“I didn’t mean that how it came across.”
“You can explain later. When I’m done with my job, which includes protecting you.”
“Now I’m a job.”
“Was that ever a question?” I ask, knowing the inference I’ve made. That she was never more when she’s so fucking much more, but I’m pissed. I’m really fucking pissed right now. I step around her and head for the car, aware that she’s judging me by her father. Aware that I told her I could deal with her thinking the worst of me, but fuck. She thinks I’m a damn criminal? That’s a hard pill to swallow.
Lori
I spend the next few hours regretting my words to Cole, and doing exactly what he no longer thinks I’m capable of: Admiring him, watching him work the magic that makes him a master at what he does, that makes him deserve my admiration, not accusation. Thanks to him, Tara has, at his urging in the presence of her new legal team, called her mother, father, agent, manager, and apparently a studio head, and just confessed all her secrets. Control is hers and we finish the meeting just in time for her party. We ride back to the hotel with her between us. Her driver pulls into the hotel’s private parking garage and we all exit the car. “You two should come to the party tonight.” Tara looks at me. “I’ll send you a few dresses to try on.”
I don’t want to go to this party. I want to talk to Cole. I want to kiss Cole. I want to apologize. I want him to stop being an asshole, even though I deserve it.
“We have work to do on your case,” Coles says, “and we’ll be flying out in the morning.”
Not tonight.
The urgency to take me to his bed has clearly departed.
Tara argues with him, but ultimately rushes off to get ready for her party. “Can we talk please?” I ask, as we step into an elevator.
“Not now,” he says, staring forward, refusing to look at me. “Right now,” he adds, “we’re going back to the suite to help Adam and his team try to find dirt on Waller. We can talk when we’re on the plane tomorrow.”
My stomach knots and I turn away from him, because he’s not looking at me anyway, and of course, there are cameras. I can say next to nothing, but I have to say something. “I’m sorry,” I say. “What I said came out all wrong and—”
“Not here,” he orders.
“Right,” I say. “On the plane tomorrow.”
The elevator dings and the doors open. Cole motions me forward and I’m having all kinds of crazy thoughts. I’ll just stop and kiss him. I’ll never kiss him again because this was all a mistake. I’m back to I’ll just stop and kiss him when we arrive at the door and he scans the card. I’ll just kiss him inside. He shoves open the door and I find Adam and another man sitting on the living room couches with a big bottle of tequila in front of them.
Cole joins me, and the second unknown man stands to a towering height of the Jolly Green Giant. Seriously, the man is like six-foot-four or five, not to mention he’s all muscle with a huge scar down his cheek. “Name’s Rick Savage,” he announces with a grin, and lifts a shot glass that he downs. “Because I’m a savage.”
I laugh, because otherwise, I might cry. Cole looks at me. “You laughed at that?”
“Now you look at me?” I challenge.
“I’m funny, dude,” Savage says. “It was funny.”
“What are we doing?” Cole asks, sounding far from amused at Savage or me.
“We,” Adam says, downing a shot, “are doing our best work on finding Waller’s secrets. Tequila is our magic juice.”
“Got an extra glass?” I ask.
Cole looks at me again. “You don’t drink, remember?”
“I drink,” I say. “Just not a lot.” I look at Savage. “Glass?”
“Oh, oh, oh,” Savage says. “The lady wants some tequila. Come on over.” He sits down, pours me a shot, and I take a seat on the couch, a cushion between him and me, and accept the drink.
Cole stares at me from where he’s still standing outside the line of the living room, his expression unreadable. “Fuck it,” he says, peeling off his jacket. “Pour me one, too.” He joins Adam which places him directly across from me, a table between us.
I down the shot and I can’t stop the grimace. “Oh God. How do you drink this stuff?”
Everyone laughs, except Cole. “Number two is easier,” Savage says refilling my glass.