Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
It’s me.
The photo was taken tonight at Nova.
It’s a profile shot of my face. I’m smiling with my chin dipped down ever so slightly.
I’m not the type to hate being photographed, but I don’t actively seek out opportunities to have my picture taken. I might if I looked this good in every shot.
I stare at the picture a second longer before I shift my gaze to my boss.
I should wake him, but why rouse a sleeping beast?
After placing his phone on the small table next to the chair, I grab a soft blue blanket from his walk-in closet and cover him with it.
“Good night, Reid,” I whisper before I rush out of his bedroom and his apartment, grateful I still have a job.
As I board the elevator after locking his apartment door, I take a deep breath. I may never know why he has an image of me on his phone, but I do know that I don’t mind it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Reid
“Wake up!”
The words invade an amazing dream about a fishing trip with Buzzy. I had a big one on the hook, and my grandfather was standing next to me, encouraging me to reel it in.
It’s dreams like this that haunt me. The one time my grandfather arranged for the two of us to take a fishing trip off Long Island, I turned him down. I had another offer for the weekend, and I opted to indulge in that instead, so my sister got to enjoy the boat time with Buzzy.
Melody treasures that experience even though she was his second choice. She knew it at the time, but now, years later, she still tells me that she feels as though she won the life lottery that weekend since she has memories with Buzzy that will never fade.
All I have is regret.
“Get the fuck up.”
I crack open an eyelid to see Baden, even though I already knew it was him kicking my shoe.
Wait. My shoe? Why the fuck am I wearing shoes while I’m asleep?
I look down. I’m apparently wearing pants and a shirt, and for some reason, I’m half-covered with one of the blankets my interior designer added to the closet because, in his words, “the aesthetic fit the space.”
It’s a fucking closet. It doesn’t need an aesthetic or a three hundred dollar blanket.
“Why the hell did you cover me with this?” I ask Baden.
The blanket flies past him as I fling it onto the floor.
Naturally, he bends over to pick it up to toss it on the bed. “I didn’t. Did you spend the entire night in that chair?”
I ignore his question to ask a pressing one of my own. “Where is your shirt?”
He glances at his bare torso and arms. “I was out for a run, asshole. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for over two hours, and since you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls, I came over to see if you were alive.”
I look to where my phone sits on a table next to the chair I spent the night in. “I was talking to Evangeline, and then…”
“You were talking to her before you fell asleep?” He points at the phone. “Why the fuck were you bothering that poor woman at night? Give her a break, Reid, or she’ll quit on you.”
That’s highly unlikely. The panicked expression on her face, after she realized I’m aware she’s been spreading word around Manhattan that I’m the boss from hell, said it all. Miss Starling wants to keep her job.
I let his comment slide and fill him in on what I was up to last night. “She was here.”
“Here?” He glances at the floor as if the answer to his question isn’t already crystal clear. “Evie was here with you?”
I nod. “I left her in the other room because my sister called, and… shit. I drifted off after that, I think. Or was it during that call?”
I grab the phone, and as soon as I touch it, the screen lights up, displaying a picture I took of my executive assistant at Nova.
Baden cranes his head to get a better look. “Is that Evie?”
I press the phone to the center of my chest. “Mind your own fucking business.”
“I’m going to make coffee.” He tugs on a gray T-shirt that is barely tucked into the waistband of his running shorts before he pulls it over his head. “Then you’re going to explain what’s going on.”
My laughter follows him out of the bedroom. “There’s no chance in hell that’s happening, and I’m showering first, so there’s time for you to order breakfast.”
“Will do!” he calls back.
I take an extra second to study the photo I took of my executive assistant.
Evangeline must have covered me with the blanket, and since I don’t recall placing my phone on the table, she must have done that for me.