Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Melanie, my in-office assistant, who chooses to work as late as me most days, would text me to let me know he made his way to my floor and asked for me.
I’ve opened the parroted message from her twenty-three days in a row now.
The twenty-fourth would have been last night, but the persistent man caught me at my computer before I could run like a coward, pretending I was simply an extremely busy businesswoman.
If he cared to ask around since his arrival, then he knows full well what a workaholic I’ve become and would have easily learned the first time my staff has witnessed my departure was the day he arrived… and every one thereafter. I was always the last to leave the office.
Pathetic to hide from him? Extremely.
Necessary to hide from him? Abso-fucking-lutely.
I spend the rest of the day being the final eye on all aspects of the event, nothing but simple, small changes that are more preference than anything else, like adding fairy lights to the dessert bar set up for the ceremony tonight and swapping out the red candles lining the mantel with blue ones to maintain the festive theme while also avoiding the clash of color from the flocked trees framing the fireplace.
Ultimately, this is a holiday retreat, but to appeal to all potential customers, we’ve locked onto the picture-perfect, snowy winter’s dream.
“You look exquisite.”
I’ve only gotten one foot out of my suite door when the familiar, silken voice weaves around me, clawing at my skin like the thorns of fresh-cut vines.
My eyes flash to his, my steps faltering as I swiftly yank my door closed behind me.
Roman has traded in his standard business attire, now dressed to kill in the purest of royal blues, his undershirt as black as his hair, deepening the depths of his midnight eyes.
A ghost of a smirk pulls at his lips, tugging at the threads knotted around the organ in my chest.
He comes closer. A single white rose in hand.
My stomach turns, the gesture a painful, familiar one I once adored.
He holds it out, and it takes everything in me to keep my hands clenched tightly around my clutch.
“Who do I have to fire?”
One dark brow rises, and it somehow makes him all the more striking.
“Who told you what I was wearing tonight?”
Roman’s grin grows slow, and my god, his time away has done nothing to dull his bold beauty. If anything, it’s amplified. His jaw sharper, shoulders powerfully set, proof he still takes his morning trips to the gym, rippling against the material of his tailored jacket.
I bet the Florida women just loved this man.
“Why the sour face?” He cocks his head.
My eyes narrow, and I go to step beyond him, but he blocks my path, sliding into my space with grace no man should possess.
“No one gave away your color of choice, but I know you, Kitten. Red would be to stand out, white isn’t your style, and black is basic.”
His eyes fall to the sweep of my gown, a heart-shaped bodice pressed tightly against my chest, delicately curving around my forearms. The off-the-shoulder straps dip into a deep U-shape, my spine slightly on display, the blue nearly identical to his but sequined.
I sparkle from top to bottom, my black choker, as well as the cuff along my wrist and shoes, making it that much harder to believe his choice of a black dress shirt was as coincidental as the suit itself.
But he’s both right and wrong. White was never an option. Red, however…
I’m saving that gem for tomorrow night. So blue it was.
The tip of the rose caresses my arm, and I blink back into reality, glaring at the satiny smooth flower as if it’s the enemy and not the man who holds it.
“Accept it, Kitten. Please.”
Taking the rose, I spin, sliding it through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on my room door, then push past him, but his legs are longer and built like a Viking’s, stretching beyond my smaller strides to reach the elevator first.
The doors open moments later, and he sweeps an arm out.
Rolling my eyes, I step inside, hating being trapped in such a small space with the man who smells of pine and clean linen, of rain and snow.
Of before...
I swallow, avoiding the mirror-like doors before us, aware of the picture-perfect couple we look within them.
“Do me a favor and stay on your side of the room tonight. After the opening speech, I’m nothing but a guest of the resort, and I’d like to enjoy the evening.”
“And being near me prevents that from happening?”
This time I do look forward, my eyes locking with his in the silvery reflection.
“Yes.”
Creases fall over his forehead instantly, but thankfully before he has time to speak, the doors click open, laughter and loud chatter reaching us.
I smile wide at the sound and set out.