Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“It was.”
The sound of her light laugher goes straight to my gut. “Two in one night? Oh, the shock. I may never recover.”
I give her hair another tug. The strands slide cool and soft around my fingers. “Go on.”
“Yes, I teach them how to highlight their personalities and gain new followers. I got lucky landing my last client.” She tells me the name of the rising television star Brenna and I had drinks with in New York a month ago. The smallness of the world can be a strange thing.
Sophie’s long lashes shadow her cheeks as she focuses on some distant spot. “Anyway, with him, I upped my game, taking photos as well. It’s funny—they were totally staged, arty, that kind of thing, but his followers love them and believe they’re candids.”
“We see what we want to see,” I murmur.
“Yes, and we build sandcastle dreams around celebrities. All we need is a window into their lives to start.”
“Which is what you’re providing.”
She nods, her cheek rubbing my chest. “So anyway, I got an email from my client, saying his acquaintance wanted to interview me for a big job in Europe. He put us in contact, and I was asked to come to London, all expenses paid. I’m guessing it’s someone pretty famous; I was told they’d give me details in person in order to protect the client’s privacy.
“The whole first class thing was a happy surprise. I got to the ticket counter, and they told me I’d been moved to first class.”
“Did the airline specifically say you were bumped?”
She frowns in confusion. “I was expecting coach. I mean, who sends an interviewee first class?”
“Depends on the interviewer. Perhaps your ticket was always for first class,” I point out. “Though I still don’t understand why they gave you my extra seat.”
“Still crabby about that?”
“It was never personal,” I tell her quietly. Regardless of what people believe about me, I don’t go out of my way to be a bastard.
The press of her palm against my abdomen grows heavy. “I get it,” she says. “You didn’t want any witnesses.”
Perceptive girl.
She smiles a little. “For the record, though. I’m glad I’m here.”
I am too.
When I don’t say anything, she gives me a nudge. “Admit it. I made it better.”
“No other flight I’ve been on can compare,” I tell her truthfully. “Security precautions aside, surely this company gave you a name.”
“Yes, I have a name.” She gives me a bright smile as if this is supposed to ease my trepidation. “I’m to meet Mr. Brian Jameson at the— Why are you turning green? Shit, are you going to be sick?”
I might very well be. I almost laugh, full-out unhinged, oh-fuck-it-all laughing. I’m not even surprised it’s “Brian” she’s interviewing with. It almost feels inevitable, the cherry on top of this strange encounter with this chatty girl.
At my side, Sophie comes up on her elbow, and the nimbus of her moonlight hair seems to glow around her concerned face—though really it’s cheap airplane lighting and my overactive imagination. She’s just a girl with bleached hair and a talent for small talk.
Lie. She’s more than that. She’s untouchable.
“Sunshine, you’re freaking me out.”
“Sorry,” I say, retreating. “I’m simply adjusting to the fact that I’ve been tucked up with a potential employee.”
Chapter Four
Sophie
* * *
It’s fairly stunning how quickly and effectively finding out you’re wrapped around a man who works with your potential boss will kill the mood. Not that I’d expected anything from the stuffy but oh-so-hot Gabriel Scott. I was under no illusions that we wouldn’t part ways as soon as the plane landed.
And, really, that would be for the best. I have sworn off hookups, as I’ve concluded they’re bad for my mental health. I’ve dealt with too many dick biscuits to continue with casual sex. Even if I hadn’t, Gabriel isn’t exactly offering. I’ve never met a more standoffish, prickly man.
I’d wonder if he’s simply arrogant—a perfectly formed man who doesn’t deign to mix with average women like me. But it’s fairly clear he’s this way with everyone.
So, yes, leaving this beautiful being behind at the tarmac has always been part of the plan. Maybe that’s why I’ve felt so free to be utterly myself with him. What does it matter if he finds me lacking when we’re nothing more than strangers forced to endure each other’s company for one night of travel?
But now everything is upside down and sideways. I will be seeing him in England. He works with Brian Jameson, which he informs me is actually a false name for Brenna James, who runs the PR department for his organization.
Why Brenna James needed to give me a fake name is beyond me, but definitely piques my interest.
Gabriel spares no time extracting himself from my hold and putting as much space between us as possible. The turbulence has died, so there isn’t an excuse to linger anyway. We spend the rest of the flight in awkward silence.