 by Deborah Bladon.jpg)
Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Or is it the worst?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Abby
“What do we have here?”
I turn at the sound of the deeply seductive voice behind me. I’m not alarmed, but maybe I should be, given that it’s Saturday night and I’m alone on a sidewalk in Manhattan.
My gaze trails over expensive black leather shoes before landing on a well-tailored tuxedo. When I finally glance at the man’s face, I already know what I’ll find.
Eyes that are a shade of blue that the bright summer sky would envy stare at me. His bone structure is something out of the studio of a sculptor, and his dark brown hair is styled back from his forehead, giving him a look that speaks of sophistication.
He’s not a stranger to me, although we’ve never met.
“Hey,” I toss that out nonchalantly as if I’m unaware that I look like I stepped out of a child’s fairytale book, complete with the fake diamond tiara on my head and the glass slippers on my feet.
They’re not actually slippers or crafted of glass. They’re three-inch clear heels made from some type of plastic resin that is pinching the life out of my toes.
He looks at the light blue satin gown I’m wearing. “Your chariot has turned into a pumpkin. That’s why I heard you curse just now.”
“Curse?” A soft smile edges over my lips. “I swore.”
“You did,” he agrees with a nod of his chin. “I believe fuck was the word you chose to express your disappointment at being stood up by your rideshare.”
I shake my head. “I said all that out loud?”
“Loudly,” he makes the subtle correction. “Were you at a costume party?”
“Were you?” I bounce the question back at him.
“This is a tux.” He tugs on one of the lapels of the black jacket. “I’d only wear this to a costume party if I were pretending to be a billionaire.”
“Which suggests that you are a billionaire.”
He grins. “I didn’t say that.”
He didn’t need to.
I know exactly who he is.
He’s Declan Wells. He co-owns one of the most successful men’s underwear brands in the world. The company bears his surname. The headquarters for Wells happens to be in the same building where I work.
I’ve seen Mr. Wells in the lobby on more than one occasion. I’ve stood in front of him after boarding the elevator on the way up to my office at Thorsen & Associates. The legal firm is one floor below the three floors that Wells inhabits.
“I was at a fundraiser,” he says. “You weren’t. I know that because I would remember seeing you there.”
Tucking a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear, I sigh. “My fundraiser gown is green. This is my surprise-my-friend’s-daughter-on-her-fourth-birthday gown.”
“Do four-year-olds party until midnight?”
“The party broke up at seven-thirty,” I clarify. “The birthday girl was in bed by nine, but then her mom ordered take-out and wine, and well…”
“Well, how can a beautiful hazel-eyed princess turn that down?”
I smile at the compliment. “She couldn’t.”
He glances at the approaching traffic. “My driver is close.”
“Mine isn’t. I need to order another ride.”
“We’ll drop you off,” he offers. “There’s more than enough room in my car for you and your tiara.”
I smooth my fingers over the clear stones on the headpiece. “Thank you, but I’ll grab another ride.”
“You can trust me.”
My eyes lock on his. “Can I?”
That sends his head back in laughter, and it’s a sight to behold. Some men are handsome. Others border on gorgeous, but Declan Wells is in his own category. I know I’m not the only one who thinks that. Half of the women I work with have mentioned how hot he is.
His hand dives into the inner pocket of his jacket. He produces a leather wallet. He has it open in no time, and his driver’s license is in his palm.
“See for yourself.” He turns the license toward me so I can read the details, including his birthdate, thirty-three years ago.