Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Maybe it's fast. Maybe we're crazy. But maybe that's the entire point. Love doesn't have to make sense. The heart isn't supposed to be logical. It's simply supposed to feel.
And mine is beating out of my chest for a hot billionaire who steals Halloween decorations, hoards notebooks, and builds his Roman mansion simply out of spite.
Chapter Eight
Drake
"Is that Drake Whitlock?" Debbie Moorehead, one of the biggest gossips in town, whispers far too fucking loudly as I stroll through Dooley Advertising, my feet thumping against the luxurious tile, sweat trickling down my back. My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest.
I've never been this nervous in my life. I don't even fucking know why I'm nervous. Madeline left my bed a few hours ago—not nearly long enough for her to have forgotten that she's falling for me. But I'm fucking nervous anyway. I tried to work all goddamn morning but couldn't get a single thing done. All I could think about was her and the fact that she wasn't in my arms where she's supposed to be.
I need to see her, need to touch her. I won't be able to think straight until I'm looking into her eyes again.
"Yes," someone whispers to Debbie. I don't see who. I don't bother looking. What's the point? They've been whispering about me for years. Every damn time I come into town, they act like I've emerged from a black hole or some shit. It's ridiculous.
I'm also well aware that it's my own doing. This is the life I chose. But fucking hell. People like Debbie make sure it's as irritating as hell.
"What is he doing here?" Debbie asks.
"You didn't hear? Madeline Dooley left Trick or Treat with him on Halloween," her friend hisses.
"Are you serious? Why?"
Jesus Christ. Does everyone in this fucking town think I've turned into a goddamn psycho in my mansion?
I snort to myself. Do I even need to answer that? I wasn't lying when I told Madeline that most people left high school in high school. They've either forgotten why I don't come around much, or they just don't get it. As far as they're concerned, all the time I spend alone makes me eccentric…which is just a polite way of saying fucking weird.
"Don't ask me," Debbie's friend mutters. "I don't care how much money he has. There's no way I'd go out to that big ass house of his alone."
"Girl, me either. He probably has bodies in the frigging basement."
A growl rumbles in my chest, irritation coursing through me. Is this really what everyone thinks of me?
"Well, if she's with him, you have to wonder about her too."
Fucking hell. I stop walking, my stomach churning.
Is this what they'll think of Madeline because she's with me?
It's a grim thought, one I hadn't considered before now. I'm used to people around here judging me. I'm used to being an outsider. But is that how they're going to view Madeline if she's with me? As an outsider? Someone to avoid? That's not what she deserves. She deserves someone who belongs, someone who can make this town a home for her, a place full of love.
Debbie and her friend fall silent. Their eyes bore into my back as my mind races through my options. Except…they don't feel like options. One is a future. The other is a prison sentence.
I spin on my heel.
My heart crashes against my ribcage when I see Madeline standing near the entrance, her hair in loose waves around her face, her tight pencil skirt highlighting every gorgeous inch of her body. Her eyes meet mine across the lobby, and I know she heard her fucking coworkers. I see it in her eyes—sadness, anger. Grief.
Fuck.
I stride toward her, my feet moving in her direction before I even give the command.
"You're leaving." Her shoulders droop, grief floating through her expression as she stares at me. That look on her face—like her whole world just fell out from beneath her—has mine shaking beneath my feet.
Leaving? Fuck. Does she think I'm running? That I heard what they said and decided to get the fuck out of here?
Hell no. It's the exact opposite.
"I love you," I blurt, my voice ringing across the lobby.
Her mouth falls open.
"I've hidden in my mansion for years, avoiding people like your coworkers." I cut my eyes in their direction, letting them know I heard every fucking word. Debbie has the grace to look embarrassed. Her friend, a blonde I don't recognize, hides behind her monitor at the receptionist's desk. "They don't know me because I never gave them that chance."
My goddamn heart is in my throat as I take another step toward her. "I want to change that, Madeline." I swallow hard. "You made me want to change that."
"Drake," she whispers, her cinnamon eyes wide. "What are you doing?"