Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Because that was how she felt.
How he had left her feeling.
Nothing.
When F reached her side, they began walking together, both of them ignoring the paps in silent agreement. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before. F was one of the few openly gay millionaires in the world, and just a few months ago, it had been F targeted by the press when word broke out that his long-term partner had embezzled money from him. That time, it had been Bobby who helped him pick up the pieces. Now, F considered it his turn to return the favor.
Dozens of camera bulbs were furiously flashing, their lenses zoomed in, all of the reporters desperate to catch a possible glimpse of the philanthropic heiress’ reaction. Bobby Granger was still an enigma to them. She was so unfashionable, almost fat, and very dull, with not a scandal attached to her name. How in the world had she made someone like Leandro Christopoulos fall in love with her? Could it be true that all this time the Greek billionaire had even pined for her? And how was it that she had managed to do it again, capturing the heart of yet another beautiful Greek god?
Life was so very unfair, the more malicious members of the lot thought, and so they glared as Bobby Granger walked past them at a leisurely pace.
“They hate you,” F whispered to her cheerfully as they joined the rest of the staff at the center of the circuit. He was of the mind that any publicity was good publicity. Although he hurt for Bobby, his mind was already trying to come up with ways on how to turn this sudden furor of the media over Bobby to the foundation’s advantage.
“I know,” she whispered back in the same tone even though she really wasn’t cheerful. Everyone was still either staring or glaring at her, and when she felt beads of sweat starting to drip down her forehead, Bobby quickly wiped them away. She didn’t want to give the paps any chance to take a photo and make her sweat look like tears running down her face.
Bobby focused her attention on the small group of bikers preparing for their “audition”. All of them were tall and powerfully built, with their helmets on and wearing leather jackets and pants. In other words, they were out to impress and be the one biker to perform the opening act for their next fundraiser.
F waved at her to join him. “Quite a turnout, isn’t it? There are still more reporters coming in – I think you should hold a press conference. But make them promise that they’ll cover our next fundraiser first.”
“You’re so opportunistic.” But she was smiling when she said it. F was opportunistic, but then so was she.
“I have absolutely no plans arguing on that score,” F said with a wink. “That’s why I’ve got a quarter billion in my bank account.” Pulling out his pink handkerchief from the breast pocket of his shiny silver three-piece suit, F began patting his face dry of sweat.
Bobby rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just take off your blazer?”
“And let all those gorgeous bikers see my waistline? Are you kidding me?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re all straight.”
“I’m pretty sure my money can convince them otherwise.” F glanced back at the bikers. “Ready to see the first one perform his stunt?”
Bobby nodded.
F did a little hand wave and the first biker revved his bike, the roar of its engine powerful enough to give Bobby a little shiver. There was also this tiniest twinge in her heart, a faded memory of a photo shoot where she had sat on his lap in his bike, but she shook the thought away as well.
A gust of wind hit her, and Bobby looked up just in time to see the biker speed past her, shooting up the ramp at such incredible speed she couldn’t help holding her breath like everyone as the biker soared over the ramp and drove dead center into the metal ring suspended from two steel poles.
Applause broke out as the biker made a 180-degree twist in the air to face the crowd of reporters by the time his bike hit the ground.
F let out a loud wolf whistle even as he whispered to Bobby, “This one I don’t care what he looks like. He definitely needs to be part of the front act.”
“He definitely went all out with that one,” she murmured. “Maybe the guy needs a huge backer.” Her mind was already busy going through the foundation’s list of sponsors. Maybe Kastein, Inc. would sponsor the biker if he went pro. The company’s Dutch billionaire CEO could be quite generous given the right project or beneficiary.
“Do you have his CV with you?” Bobby asked.
“It’s with Nessa.” F called their most recently recruited heiress over.