Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Perfectly capable of not fucking up for five minutes. Go.” He jutted his face toward the restroom. “Anything to drink?”
I hesitated for one second. I shouldn’t be leaving him unattended in a place that openly served alcohol, and I was perfectly aware of that. At the same time, I couldn’t treat him the same as before. We were no longer an employer and an employee, and treating him like he was strictly business was borderline inhumane. Especially since he was so much more now.
Alex saw the doubt etched on my face, locked my chin between his fingers, and slammed his mouth down on mine. His other hand caressed the side of my tit, darkening my thoughts with lust. “Go take a piss,” he hissed, his hand sliding backward and cupping my butt. “I promise not a drop of alcohol will meet my mouth tonight. All I intend to get high on is you.”
“And Fallon?” I hated that I asked him that.
“Fuck Fallon,” he said, unblinking.
The joy that filled my body in that moment was so pure and real, I felt like I could fly.
I wobbled to the restroom and stood in line for ten minutes. It sucked, because most women were there to powder their noses, and that was precisely the thing I was afraid Alex was going to do when no one was looking. Every minute made hysteria bubble and simmer inside me, hotter and deeper. I had the fastest pee in the history of urine, washed my hands sans soap, and rushed back out to the main drawing room where people danced on white and black marble floors, chandeliers twinkling above my head. My eyes darted to the spot where I’d left Alex.
He wasn’t there.
Of course he wasn’t. He was an addict, and all three things he was addicted to—alcohol, cocaine, and Fallon—were there tonight.
My eyes roamed. I spotted Alfie flirting with someone at the bar, Lucas dancing with a girl in a Victorian dress, and Blake talking on his phone on one of the balconies overlooking the Paris skyline. If Blake knew I’d lost Alex, he would maim me. And rightly so. I started walking around in circles, searching for him. Black tux. Black mask. That was pretty much half the attendees of this Halloween charity ball, but the knowledge that so much was on the line for me—my job, my salary, my heart—made my heeled feet run from spot to spot, searching for the troubled rock star.
I peeked into every face and studied every curve of jaw before deciding he wasn’t in the ballroom. Then, I began to look through the balconies. All eight of them. The first one was filled with couples making out. The second had a yelling Blake, and thankfully, he hadn’t noticed me. The third one was occupied with smokers, the fourth was empty, the fifth had a couple fighting in French…when I reached the sixth balcony, I stopped. It was empty, but I heard voices. One of them was familiar. Ragged breath on tough-as-nails accent. The familiar hoarseness that came with smoking like a chimney. I erased the space to the white marble railings with three steps.
And there, standing on the terrace below me, I had the perfect view to my very own version of a horror flick.
Alex and Fallon on the balcony of the first floor, face-to-face.
Without masks. Without pretense. Without me.
The lower terrace was deeper, almost twice the size of the one I stood on, so I had a crystal clear view of them.
She was prettier in person than I’d expected. Her hair was blond, long, and shiny. Her hourglass figure was hugged in a red silky dress. A seductive Juliet. The beautiful Disney Princess in the perfect dress. The way they looked at each other alone paralyzed me. Good. I’d had it coming from day one. Wasn’t I the genius who’d gotten into bed with the baddest rock star in the universe, who—by the way—had warned me he was after his ex?
She took a step toward him. He didn’t take a step back. No words were spoken, and that somehow made everything worse. She cupped his cheek, looking up. He bowed his head, looking down.
Then she got on her tiptoes and kissed him. Softly. Heartbreakingly slowly. I watched them, surprised the moon didn’t drop into the earth and the stars didn’t rain down on me. It felt final, bitter, unexpected. Suddenly, I found it hard to breathe.
Three.
Two.
One.
Three seconds. That’s the time it took him to tear his lips from her. Three seconds that felt like a lifetime as I stood there, in my stupid dress, with my stupid hair, being my stupid self. His lips disconnected from Fallon’s, but his eyes were still heavy and his expression was tortured. Anger washed over me. How could he do this to me in my favorite city in the whole world? How could he do this to us after London? After Watford? After the whole, entire freaking world?