Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
But of all the people I’ve met so far at this party, Dylan’s the most powerful, the most sexual. He’s merely polite to almost everyone but me, and I know he’s only more to me because he sees me as a means to an end, but the line between revenge and pleasure is getting murkier every time his hand grazes along my spine. Perhaps they are one and the same, though.
“Too bad Evan doesn’t work in this building,” I murmur as I sip the water he’s returned with, and Dylan lifts an eyebrow. “He definitely took her on his desk. It’d only be fair to do the same.”
Dylan’s grin is sharklike, and he nods in approval of my callous suggestion. “I’m sure I can think of something appropriate, if you’d like.”
His grin is infectious as we teasingly test the waters and each other’s limits, which does nothing to help settle the growing tension between us. If anything, it heats the air around and between us a few more degrees.
After a long moment where we simply look into one another’s eyes—me, imagining what Dylan would be like as a lover, and him, likely plotting and scheming how to use me for maximum impact—he glances away. Before I follow his lead of returning my attention to the speaker, I note the slight tilt of a smile at the corner of his lips.
I work to keep myself occupied mentally as the guest of honor continues his speech. It goes a lot longer than it should, but I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way. There’s a few people shifting around as he drones on, and as the speech finally comes to an end, the room erupts in applause that sounds more grateful for the chairman getting off the stage than anything else.
A flash of light catches my attention. A photographer snaps photos of the event. As I smile for another photo, I catch my first sight of Evan this evening. He’s with his mother and father, and on his arm is Elise… but Evan’s not looking at her. If anything, he’s staring this way. My stomach drops, and a rush of cold slips down my spine. Every emotion swarms me, but I keep my expression still, using the skills I’ve practiced for years to fit in to the tiny corner of this world I’ve clawed my way into.
I pretend like I didn’t see him. I might be embarrassed by the way he treated me a few days ago, but I’m for damn sure not going to let anyone see that. Instead, I turn in to Dylan.
“He’s at your eleven o’clock. He brought her,” I tell him, placing my hand on his chest. I can feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. It’s not enough to help with the shock of seeing not only Evan, but Elise at his side with his parents smiling at her welcomingly.
Dylan must see what I’m talking about because I feel a rumble in his chest. He captures my upper arms in his large hands and dips down to quietly say, “It could mean nothing. Many people bring assistants with them to take discrete notes throughout the event.” I look up at him through my lashes, hopeful it means that and not what I automatically assumed—that Evan is hard launching his relationship with Elise. But Dylan concedes, “It could also mean more. You okay?”
I force myself to nod. “Just unexpected. I was prepared for him, not them.”
“You’ve got this,” he says encouragingly.
I trust that he’s right, turning back to the podium and taking a drink of my water. When a waiter passes by, I set the now empty glass on his tray. All the while, I can feel both Dylan and Evan’s eyes on me.
Up front, another Faulkner is speaking, really giving the hard push for everyone to show generous support of tonight’s featured charity. When he wraps up, the room breaks out in muted applause. After it dies down, Dylan gives my hand a gentle squeeze and points with his eyes across the room. “There’s Ollie.” It’s a name I recognize from a list Dylan rattled off earlier of important contacts I should meet.
I nod, confident in my skills and ready for this because I’m on Dylan’s arm. I’ve got this, I remind myself as we cross the room to approach a balding man in his upper fifties. He’s surreptitiously sneaking what looks like one of the event’s single bite meatballs into his mouth.
“Ollie, you know Wendy’s going to be upset with you for that,” Dylan says, mock menacingly, and the man legitimately blushes as he licks his lips. Dylan breaks into a polite smile and offers a hand. “Your secret’s safe with me, though. For now,” he teasingly warns. “How have you been?”