Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
That is, until Mark Gladstone blocked my way. He leered down at me with his white teeth and perfect hair, still completely put together after eight hours of work. He slipped his blazer off his shoulders and draped it over his arm, looking like he’d just stepped out of the pages of a menswear catalog. Then he very deliberately unhooked the next button of his dress shirt, giving me a glimpse of black chest hair.
“Jamie, my boy,” he said, his voice overly deep and dramatic like a movie trailer voice over. I could almost hear an ominous soundtrack backing his words. “It’s time to go. Time to introduce you to the city of sin.”
“But… but I’m underage still. My birthday’s not for two more weeks.” I’d been drinking since the tender age of fourteen, but it sounded like a good excuse.
“Not a problem,” he said. “I’ll just order you Shirley Temples all night.”
All night? That sounded like a long time.
I glanced in the general direction of my room, then back at Mark. “I’m not sure. I have my laptop with me.” I held it up like it was the missing puzzle piece. My saving grace. The irrefutable reason I could not go.
Mark shrugged. “We’ll take it upstairs.”
Damn. This guy’s got an answer for everything.
Unwilling to be easily dissuaded, Mark followed me to my suite and walked right in behind me without being invited. Not that I particularly minded, but it was the first time I’d ever had anyone over, and I hadn’t cleaned yet. It looked like a gym locker had exploded in the bedroom, and snack wrappers littered the coffee table, proof of my late-night snack machine raids. Funny how your own mess never looked that bad while you were alone, but once someone else laid eyes on it, it was downright disgusting.
Maybe I should finally put that maid service sign on the doorknob.
I didn’t even get a chance to apologize, which I was totally going to do, because Mark beat me to it. “Don’t worry about the mess,” he said. “You’re a college guy. You’re allowed to be a slob.”
It’s a good thing my back was to him, because my eyes got wide, and I mouthed a few choice insults. I hadn’t really wanted to go out with him in the first place, and now I wanted to even less. But I was also beginning to feel like the lamest person to ever hit the strip in Vegas, and I figured it would do me some good to get out. Going with Mark would save me from having to explore a strange place alone, so against my better judgment, I went.
Besides, Kage had blown off our afternoon session to go out and have fun. Maybe I ought to do the same. No sense holing up in my room for yet another night of work.
We walked a few doors down from the hotel to a trendy bar full of Mark Gladstone clones and women who looked like they’d just clocked out at the office. Of course, they had freshened their lips and hair. I got the distinct impression that this was an after work pickup spot, nothing more, nothing less. Sort of like the Vegas office drone version of the Collegiate back home.
A couple of women eyed me hungrily, cluing me in quickly to the fact that I was fresh meat around here— chum to the circling sharks. I didn’t like it one bit.
Mark ordered a Shirley Temple for me. Which apparently is Vegas speak for straight cherry vodka. I nearly spewed it all over the bar.
“Whoa, we’ve got a lightweight here,” Mark said jovially, patting me on the back like he was burping a baby.
Jesus. Could this guy get any more condescending?
“Not a lightweight,” I gasped between hacking coughs. “I was just expecting ginger ale and grenadine. This is more like rubbing alcohol and cough syrup.”
“Well, this is the grown-up version of the Shirley Temple. Time we were putting some hair on that chest of yours.” His eyes dropped to my chest, and I swear even though he couldn’t see through my shirt, I felt almost violated. For a moment, I thought I could relate to women on that subject.
“Okay, that wasn’t creepy at all,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Pardon?” Mark asked.
“Nothing.” I slumped my shoulders and finished my Robitussin cocktail while Mark wagged his eyebrows salaciously at a pair of bottle blondes down the bar from us. I groaned inwardly when one of them settled her hopeful gaze on me. “I gotta go to the bathroom,” I told Mark.
“Well, why don’t you do it at the next bar? We need to get out of here.”
I glanced at the girls and back at him. “I thought you were working something there.”
Mark gave me a pitying look and shook his head slowly. “Don’t ever take the first offer, Jamie. I’m just warming up. There’s plenty of night left to explore.”