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)
“So, do we have to guess, or are you going to tell us what tonight was all about?” Fin asks lazily as he puts his glass to his mouth.
“About?” I bite the word out, not yet ready to forgive him his unwitting part in that stupid photo. Which makes me an even bigger idiot than him.
“About Eve.” He swallows his drink, then sets it down, his movements deliberate and slow. “How can I put this?” he begins, pressing a pondering hand to his chin. “Whatever that charade was about, I don’t believe it.”
“I’m flattered you’re so invested,” I reply, swirling the whisky in my glass, watching the light turn the liquid a fiery shade of amber. Broad-shouldered fuckwit, more like.
“Invested. That’s a very particular word.”
“Lads, come on,” Matt, the peacemaker, interjects. “Why does it have to mean anything beyond a pleasant meal with friends?”
“Because everything he does has an angle.” Fin points a finger gun my way. “Some kind of payoff. He hasn’t suddenly taken a shine to Eve in the natural way of things.”
“Natural?” I repeat coolly. Conversely, my blood boils.
“She’s not your type.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. People change. Fashions, weather, hairstyles.” My lips twitch as I think of Eve uttering those very words.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Fin exchanges a glance with Matt.
“I’m merely offering the notion that nothing in life is static.”
“Okay, Socrates.”
“I think that one was Buddha,” Matt puts in.
“Whatever. Eve is too good for him.”
It’s true. She’s far too lovely to be caught up in my plans. But there she remains, snared. I say none of that, of course. “I do wonder where this sudden display of impassioned offense springs from.”
“You don’t fuck with women who don’t know the game. Someone you meet in a coffee shop or who you bump into outside of the office. The one that takes your breath away, the one you can’t stop thinking about.”
“What bollocks are you talking about?” Matt looks at Fin as though he’s grown another head. “Sounds like you’ve been bingeing a load of sappy rom-coms.”
“The one you want so bad you pin her down by sliding a rock onto her finger,” Fin continues regardless. “Not like in the movies but in real life—other people’s lives. Don’t expect me to believe real is what just happened here.”
“I haven’t proposed, if that’s what you mean.” But it sparks an idea. Quite a cruel one at the culmination of my plans. I couldn’t. Could I?
“Stick to your models and socialites. They’re more your type.”
“I have a type? Thank you, Fin. I wasn’t aware.”
He leans back in his chair with a snort. “Yeah, you do.” He makes an expansive gesture. “We all do. Hot bodies. Cold hearts. Low expectations.”
“And I’m supposed to take romantic advice from a man who’s fucked half the world’s internet influencers?”
“That’s it!” With a snap of his fingers, Fin jolts straight in his seat. “The internet—I knew I recognized her.”
My shoulders tighten, and I clamp my jaw shut.
“That’s her, isn’t it? Atherton’s fucking fiancée!”
I slam my glass down. “He doesn’t have a fiancée.”
“Because you have her?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Matt mutters, dropping his chin to his chest.
“You fucking dog. What’s your angle?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is this about Lucy?”
Every atom of my being revolts at the unexpected mention of her name. “You will never—” I halt. Breathe in. Start again. “It’s not as though I planned or schemed. I was in my car, minding my own business, when Eve climbed in, wearing her wedding dress. You tell me that’s not fate.”
“Fate.” Fin’s expression firms. “Try another f-word.”
“I will. Mind your own fucking business.”
“This is all of our business,” he says, making an expansive gesture. “Scheming is bad for business—bad for trust.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I showed you the Pulse Tok, and you barely flickered. All this time, you’ve had her.”
“Had?” I repeat dangerously low.
He narrows his gaze. “What are you up to?”
“You’ve met her,” I retort. “Does it look like I could persuade Eve to do anything she doesn’t want to?”
“I know you can turn on the charm like it’s nobody’s business when you want something, you ruthless fucker.”
“You’re confusing me with you.” If only charm had worked.
“But when charm doesn’t work, you turn dirty. Which is it? Northaby, or are you all about pissing off Atherton to avenge Lucy?”
“Does it matter? All you need to know is Eve and I are enjoying our time together while Atherton is, as usual, being a colossal prick. He has her belongings. She had nothing but the dress she was standing in.” And the delights it concealed. “She didn’t even have shoes.” I’ve no idea why her pink-painted toes in silk stockings should still seem erotic.
“But she’s living with you,” he states flatly.
“She’s staying in the hotel, yes.”