Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I’d made a habit of stopping by Darwin’s floor to say hello and usually chatted with Victoria on my way to see Bernadette and ultimately, Graham. There was no need for me to ever go to the office, but I was a people person and I would have gone nuts with zero social stimuli. My ten-to-fifteen-minute, twice-a-week visits were enough to grant me an invite or two for drinks after work. And I loved it.
Victoria was a chain-smoking diva who struck poses a la Victoria Beckham and had the best dirt in the office, mostly about people I’d never met in my short tenure. It didn’t matter. Darwin’s over-the-top gasps and “He di’int, babes!” were pure entertainment. I learned more at the pub than I would have if I’d stayed home glued to my computer.
In a twist, Sanjay was the office hottie. He was a single, wickedly smart, and possibly bi fit Indian man in his midthirties who wore wire frame glasses and definitely shopped on Savile Row. He was always impeccably dressed and spoke with a beautiful melodic accent. Cecil the HR man annoyed everyone, especially Victoria. He had a terrible crush on her, and she was not going there.
“He’s an utter ball sack,” she’d huffed. “The village is missing an idiot there, mate.”
I’d burst into laughter, much to their amusement, sipping wine while they unloaded the angst of the day. The general consensus was that this acquisition was stressing everyone out.
“I can’t wait till it’s over and done.” Darwin had sighed. “Everyone’s doing their job same as always, but there’s a heavy feel to it, if you know what I mean. Like there’s a boulder we’re collectively pushing up a hill.”
“Or a turd through a tight tunnel,” Victoria had drawled in her poshest accent, standing with a cigarette and a lighter in hand, ready to brave the drizzle for a smoke. “But at least the big boss is in a fine mood. Perhaps our friend Raine has something to do with that?”
I’d rolled my eyes and steered the subject elsewhere. Everyone knew I’d been contracted to review a specific segment of the impending contract, which hey…made me sound vaguely important to this acquisition. Especially since I reported directly to Mr. Horsham.
They didn’t need to know that we talked about the weather or current events when I stopped by the office, then made out till our lips were sore. I never stayed long. Graham was a professional to the core.
Mostly.
I had blown him after hours, but…only once—on my knees with my cock out, sucking him like a champ—his fingers in my hair, his soft moan somewhere above me, whispering naughty nothings about wanting to fuck me over his desk. The thought of him pounding me from behind in his fancy suit had pushed me to the finish line sooner than intended, but it was hot.
It was always hot.
Nonetheless, what we did behind closed doors was ours. I never discussed Graham or the Deverley Project. They might tease their suspicions, but no one pressed and I appreciated it.
So far, I hadn’t said a word about him to Win either, and I wasn’t sure what was stopping me. True, I hadn’t been great about staying in touch lately. Between research, sightseeing day trips, biweekly visits with my office friends, and evenings with Graham, I didn’t have much time. In fact, tonight was the first evening I’d spent in my flat in over a week, and I was only here because Graham was in Paris and I felt funny staying at his place without him.
The point was, I had something cool to share with my best friend. I’d met someone so amazing and wonderful, difficult and occasionally grumpy. I was having the time of my life, and I knew this was the sort of news Winnie loved.
As soon as he wrapped up his story about the reality TV diva who’d stayed after her cut and color to sip champagne and spill tea on the upcoming season, I cleared my throat and said, “I met someone.”
Winnie squealed in delight. I could picture him in a caftan lined with feathers, setting his Queer Power coffee mug on his kitchen island to clutch his heart.
“Oh, honey. Tell all, now, now, now! I told Rocky I’d open the salon, so hurry. Is he tall, is he handsome? Does he have a sexy accent and a big dick?”
I threw my head back and guffawed. “Yes, yes, yes, and yes.”
“Gah, that makes me so happy. And you sound happy too. Are you happy?”
“I am.”
“Good. I love everything about this. You’ve made my day.” Winnie sighed theatrically. “I’ve been holding this for a whole month, but I can tell you now that I know you won’t care.”
I frowned. “Won’t care about what?”
“The professor’s wife filed for divorce for real. My source is a fellow educator who was utterly scandalized and couldn’t wait to spill her tea with her shampoo specialist. Apparently his wife caught him with his new lover, who just happens to be his new intern. No surprise. She’s better off without him. He’s a user. And some assholes never learn that age-old lesson: don’t shit where you eat.”