Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Since we have to get up in a couple of hours to head to the airport anyway, after I go pee and wash my hands, I jump in the shower to prolong facing Julian. I hear the doorknob jiggle, but thankfully, I had the foresight to lock it.
I take my time blow-drying and straightening my hair, and then I put on my makeup, going a bit darker and edgier and making sure my red lipstick is perfect. Once I’m ready for battle, I step into the bedroom with my robe wrapped around me.
Only, when my eyes land on Julian, I find him passed out in bed. Of course he is. Probably wore himself out fucking Sonia.
I quickly get dressed and then spend the rest of the morning in my makeshift office. I couldn’t even tell you what I’m working on, but the only way I know to distract myself is to delve into work. Hours pass by, and the next thing I know, Julian is leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
“Is it time to go?” I ask, still refusing to make eye contact with him.
“Yeah.”
Taking a deep breath, I pack my laptop and charger and then walk to the door with my head held high, hoping he’ll let me by without stopping me.
And for a moment, I think he’s actually going to—until, at the last second, he extends his arm, blocking the doorway.
“Excuse me,” I say, trying like hell not to let my emotions seep through. “I need to get by.”
“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”
“We need to go so we don’t miss our flight.”
“It’s a private plane,” he drawls, “with your last name across the side. It’s not going anywhere without us. So, let me ask you again, and this time, don’t deflect. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I tell him, doing my best to remain strong while, inside, I’m trembling.
I’ve learned from this ordeal that refraining from being in relationships might mean being lonely and not getting laid as often, but it also means not risking having your heart ripped out of your chest.
“Ana,” Julian says softly, “if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t fix it.”
“It can’t be fixed,” I choke out, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. “Now, please move.”
He sighs, but drops his arm, respecting my wishes, and I take off down the hall to grab my luggage and go to the car that’s waiting to bring us to the airport.
The car ride and plane ride are intense, the tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife, but Julian doesn’t say a word to me the entire time. Instead, he just stares at me, like he’ll somehow be able to reach into my head and get answers.
When we arrive in Vegas, another car is waiting to take us to the hotel we’re staying at. The rest of the day flies by, both of us working our asses off with our team to make sure everything is perfect for Saturday night. And when Julian and I stumble into our room, he doesn’t even try to get answers from me.
We both shower, and then early the next morning, we do it all over again. Only tonight, we’re meeting Ronan and his team for dinner. Thankfully, we’ve agreed that when it comes to work events, we behave professionally, which means Julian needs to keep his distance despite Ronan knowing we’re engaged.
We have dinner in a private suite, where we reveal Ronan’s personalized whiskey.
“Damn, you guys are good,” Ronan says as he and his team try Kingston’s Ronan Flynn Limited Edition Irish Whiskey. “This is smooth with the perfect amount of malt.”
“That’s our job,” I tell him. “Now, for your drink.”
I nod toward the waiters, and they bring out glasses of Mo Ghrá—meaning my love in Irish—which takes him back to his roots. His mom is from Ireland, and she was the reason he fell so deeply in love with music. She passed away last year, and he wanted to honor her and his love of music.
“This is your signature Irish whiskey, mixed with one of our top dry red wines and a touch of orange.”
Ronan takes a sip and grins, nodding in satisfaction. “You guys nailed it.”
“That’s what we like to hear,” Julian says. “This drink will be served at the club opening tomorrow night, along with bottles of Ronan Flynn Limited Edition.”
We spend the next couple of hours eating and drinking while discussing the specifics. I let Julian take over while I drink my weight in alcohol, hoping it will help dull the constant pain in my chest.
When dinner is over and we part ways, instead of going up to our room, I head down to the casino bar to drink some more. I’m two, maybe three drinks in when Julian sits in the seat next to me.