Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
"You object to her passion for her boyfriend?"
"They could have some self-control."
"Could you?"
"I have." She looks up at me. "Haven't I?"
"If we didn't have to keep this secret?"
"I don't know. Maybe." She moves closer. "We don't have to keep it secret here. And I haven't jumped you yet."
"Yet?"
She nods, rises to her tiptoes, brings her lips to mine.
Fuck, she tastes good, like Sienna.
"Mmm. What are we talking about?" She pulls back with a sigh.
"Caffeine."
"Right. This place. It's actually, uh, Eve's favorite. Well, her sister's favorite. I do appreciate that she's good to her sister."
"Your enthusiasm is contagious."
She flips me off. Then she smiles, takes my hand, leads me south.
"Did she first take you here?"
"No, I've been a few times. One of the girls at Rick's liked it. Sometimes, I'd bring her a drink if I was visiting Indigo."
The bar where her sister worked, smiling at rich arseholes for tips. Was that Sienna's fate too?
"Did you ever go to a place like that?" she asks. "Where it's all 'distinguished gentlemen' buying overpriced cocktails served by pretty girls?"
"I've been everywhere that sells alcohol."
"It doesn't seem like your scene. But maybe the places in London are different. Rick's is like… you've seen Casablanca?"
"I don't live in a cave."
"That's where he got the name. Rick's Cafe Americano is the bar in Casablanca."
"The owner isn't named Rick?"
"He is. And he sometimes even calls himself Big Dick."
"He does not."
She nods he does. "One of the girls at the bar said she uh… had experience that would suggest otherwise."
"She fucked him?"
"I think she gave him a hand job for better shifts."
Fuck, that turned fast. I shouldn't be surprised. A lot of rich men are entitled arseholes. A lot of poor men are entitled arseholes.
It's usually men abusing their positions of power.
When it's women, attractive, young women—
People rarely see it in those terms.
"Cam?" She tugs at my suit jacket absentminded. "You there?"
"Yeah."
"You really need that caffeine, huh?"
"Did he ever ask you?"
Her brow furrows. "What?" She's not even thinking it. She's already past it.
"The owner. Did he ask you for sexual favors?"
She looks at me funny. "Are you jealous or mad?"
"Both."
"No. He wanted me to work there. He'd bring it up every time I visited Indie. And, uh, there were other guys who asked. Who propositioned me. Or offered money." Her voice softens. "I considered it a few times."
My stomach churns.
"There were attractive men who offered. Men I wanted anyway. And we were always short on cash. But I… I don't know. I couldn't do it."
"There's no shame in that."
"I guess not." She looks up at me. "I just… I sound like Indie."
"Your sister, who's about to be set for life?"
"She signed a prenup."
That's surprising. Ty is old-fashioned when it comes to love and marriage. He's not the type to ask for a prenup.
Even though it's the smart thing to do.
Even though his older brother is divorced.
"How much does she get?" I ask.
"A lot."
"So… maybe she's not such a bad role model."
Sienna smiles. "You sound like me now."
"You're wise."
"I try. I just… I love Indie. I love that she's a musician with all this passion and drive to follow her heart, but I always thought… I'm an athlete. I do what it takes to win. Whatever it takes to win."
"You're upset you couldn't bring yourself to fuck a rich arsehole for money?"
"It sounds ridiculous like that."
I shoot her a knowing look.
"Okay, yes, it's a little ridiculous, but… only a little. For most of the history of Western civilization, fucking a rich asshole has been most women's best bet. Well… marrying a rich asshole."
My lips curl into a smile.
Her cheeks flush. "What?"
"That's something Eve would say."
Her brow furrows. "Maybe she's infecting my brain."
"You agree with her."
She swats me playfully.
I pull her closer. Follow her around the corner.
There it is; a matcha shop in shades of bubble gum pink and forest green, palm tree print and Cha Cha albums everywhere.
She leads me inside the warm, crowded shop. Points to the pink on green menu. One column of matcha drinks and one of coffee.
"You drink tea?" I ask.
"If it's sweet and full of caffeine, I drink it."
"It's sweet enough for you?"
"Mean."
My laugh eases the tension in my shoulders, but not by enough.
"It's sweet with the macadamia milk. You'll like it. And even if you don't, we're at this super extra matcha shop. You have to get the matcha."
"What does your nemesis order?"
"She's not my nemesis." She clears her throat. "I just don't like being a fifth wheel."
"And…"
"Well… she's kind of obnoxious sometimes."
"Is that right?"
"Yes! Does she have to talk about gender roles all the time?"
My lips curl into a smile. Her blush steals my attention. She's adorable jealous. What else matters?
"You can admit it's a little annoying how much she talks about it?"
"And when you talk about football?"
"You think I'm obnoxious? I can't believe this."