Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Who told you I have a boyfriend?” I frown.
“The guys said you mentioned him.”
“Oh,” I mumble, lifting my feet to the couch and resting my plate on top of my knees. “He lives in Seattle, but is here in town most weekends.”
“How does he feel about you working here?”
“He’s okay with it.” I shrug. Wyatt doesn’t really have strong opinions about anything. I know he cares about me, but he’s not the kind of man to say, ‘No, you can’t do this or that.’ He’s much too passive for that.
“Really?” he asks with a tone laced with disbelief.
“Yeah.” I shrug again.
“So you only see him when he’s in town…like you’re a booty call?” he questions, making my cheeks heat in embarrassment and my spine stiffen in annoyance.
“Wyatt is a perfect gentlemen,” I hiss, setting my feet to the floor. No way will I tell him that I’m saving my virginity until I find the man I know I will spend the rest of my life with. Since I was a little girl, I have watched my parents, their friends, and my sister sleep around like sex means nothing to them. Hell, when I was sixteen, my mom and dad told me that I was free to have sex with whoever I wanted, and even invited me to one of their free love parties. I just couldn’t do it. And yes, I tried at other times, but every time things got to the point where sex was imminent, I would close down.
“It’s just a question,” he says low, like that should make me feel better about him being an intrusive jerk.
“How often do you sleep with women you meet in this club?” I ask, and his jaw tics. “What? It’s just a question.” I get up from the couch and take my plate to the garbage can, shoving it in with a little more force than necessary.
“Come sit down, Mags.”
“No.”
“I won’t bring up Wyatt again,” he says, spitting Wyatt’s name out like it tastes bad.
“Good, my relationship is none of your business,” I tell him firmly, crossing my arms over my chest.
“For now.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I cry, throwing my arms in the air.
“He’s bound to come up eventually, Mags. You work here, remember?”
“So you’re telling me that I have the right to ask you about the women you’re spending time with outside of the time we’re working together?” I ask, watching his nostrils flare and his eyes dilate in anger. “I didn’t think so. I expect the same respect I’m showing you,” I tell him, slipping on my shoes.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he asks, watching my every move.
“I’m using one of my sick days. I suddenly don’t feel so great,” I retort, grabbing my purse from the hook near the door and swinging it over my shoulder. Giving him one last look, I leave the office before he can stop me. The moment I get downstairs, I spot Zack coming toward me with his hand on his ear, and I know he’s speaking with Sven.
“I’ll walk you.”
“I’ll walk myself.” I shake off his hand and rush through the club and out the front door.
“You okay?” Teo asks when he spots me.
“Fine, have a good night,” I say, giving him a shaky smile as I hurry past him to my car. I know it seems like I’m running, but I don’t like the feelings Sven evokes in me, even if it’s because it’s the first time I’ve felt them in a long time.
Chapter 3
Maggie
Her Name’s Maggie, Not Mags
“So how long is it going to be until you talk to me?” Sven asks as soon as I open the office door and step inside. Carrying my cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of folders in the other, I balance them carefully as I turn and use my foot to kick the door closed. It’s been three days since our blow up, and in those three days we haven’t spoken…or I should say I haven’t spoken to him unless it has to do with work. No one has ever set me off the way he had, and that alone gave me pause when dealing with him.
“I talk to you everyday,” I murmur as I place the stack of folders on his desk then use my coffee as an excuse to avoid looking at him directly.
“You ask me what you need to do, but avoid any kind of communication otherwise,” he says, sounding frustrated, and when my eyes meet his, I grudgingly notice the lavender shirt he has on today makes them even more gorgeous.
“If you’re finding me lacking, you can fire me.” I shrug, watching his eyes narrow and turn a darker shade of blue-green.
“I think I’ll keep you,” he replies in a tone that sounds like a threat, but it does something strange to my belly making it dip.