Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“To Connecticut?” She shakes her head. “He’s not forcing me away from my life, from a job and a place I’ve come to love. I’ve made friends. I have responsibilities. No,” she adds more forcefully. “I’m going nowhere.”
“Visa issues notwithstanding.”
“Obviously.” Her answer is casual, but the pinch between her eyes gives her worries away.
I give her a little time to dwell on that as drinks are sipped but not really tasted before I speak again. “I’ve no cause to really know, but he sounded quite convincing.”
“He’s had a lot of practice,” she answers flatly.
“Love, like humiliation, makes people do stupid things.”
“Nothing but being an asshole makes you lie and cheat. Look,” she says, making a triangle of her fingers around the base of her glass. “I don’t care what he does. I’ve decided he can donate my clothes to Goodwill, throw my belongings out of his third-floor window like it’s raining my stuff. Whatever. I’m over it. I just need my purse, my phone, my passport, and a few personal documents. Now, how about you stop telling me about my problems and just say what you brought me here for.”
“Straight to the heart of the matter?”
“Give the man a prize.”
“All right. I want three months from you.”
“Three months of what?”
That scowl. I think I’d bite it before smoothing it with my tongue.
“Of your time, quid pro quo.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Something in exchange for something,” I reply, not so much laying it out for her as annoying her more, apparently.
“I know what it means. I just don’t know what it means in this instance.”
“Your belongings, your phone, I’ll get them back for you—today, if you like. You won’t have to stay with your friend . . . or whoever that was yelling at you earlier.” As she’d shut the front door, I’d lingered a moment. Those old mews houses don’t offer much in the way of soundproofing.
“You heard that,” she says wearily as she drops her head to her hands.
“It sounded quite contentious.”
“I only asked her if she’d loan me a different T-shirt.”
“You wouldn’t have to borrow anything.” Though I’d loan you my cock, mouth, and fingers as often as you’d like.
“If I throw my lot in with yours,” she says with a snort. “For three months of . . .” Her eyes move over me speculatively, and I almost laugh.
“Yes, that might be one benefit, I suppose. And money. I’ll pay you for your time.” A startled noise sounds from her throat as her mouth falls open, but I push on. “Just name your price.”
“This sounds a lot like the kind of deal that ends with at least one of us going to jail. Can you spell solicitation, Oliver?”
“That’s not what I’m offering.”
“Good, I’m not an escort. I’m a veterinarian.”
“A noble way to earn a living. While fucking you was a delight, that isn’t the purpose of my proposition.”
“Would you keep your voice down?” she whisper hisses, her eyes sliding over my shoulder.
“I’m asking for your help, not access to your body,” I retort, craving both. “I need the appearance of a relationship—a stable relationship. There’s a building coming up for sale in Surrey. Unfortunately, the seller has quite an antiquated outlook.”
“Antiquated how?”
“He doesn’t want to see it pass into the hands of a developer.”
“You especially,” she somehow intuits.
“He mistrusts my motivations.”
“I can’t think why,” she mutters. “Oh, wait, yes I can.”
“He wants the building to remain intact and believes the best way to ensure that is to sell it to a private buyer. Someone in a settled relationship. He also wants to be courted. Wooed like a debutant.”
“When you just want to strip the old girl out of her underwear. I can see how that would be a problem for you,” she adds, biting back a grin. “Given you prefer to be the one being chased.”
“I think you’re confusing courtship with manipulation.”
“Either way, all this sounds like a you problem.” She happily pokes the air with her forefinger. “One easily solved with a call to an escort agency, I’d say. Or if sex isn’t part of the deal, you could try for an actress.” She holds up her hands: a triumphant shrug in miniature. Like she’s solved all my problems.
“When did Mitchell propose to you, Eve?”
“What has that got to do with anything?” Her hands fall, her expression turning guarded.
“He’s interested in the same property.”
“I don’t know where he’d get the money from.” Her eyes drift over my face, unsure.
“We’re both in the same business. You know that.”
“But not in the same league. You own a hotel. Mitch flips houses. You have a driver and a Bentley, and he—”
“Is not quite so wealthy,” I agree. Pressing my elbows to the tabletop, I steeple my fingers in front of me. “But he’s not so very far behind. Yesterday, you asked what I had against him. Well, last year, he outbid me on a parcel of land earmarked for regeneration.”