Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “What do you suggest?”
Leaning back in his chair, he can’t hide his look of triumph. He’s got my attention now, and he knows it.
“A significant charitable donation, perhaps?” he says. “Or maybe reconstruction of a botanical garden on your private property?”
“Why the fuck would I need that? I’m not into Greenery and flowers.”
Christ.
“For publicity,” he insists with a sigh. “Just toss them a bone so they stop crying foul, and we can move on.”
I shake my head. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll think about it.”
I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want to track down Cora and punish her for getting involved in this to begin with. “Just make sure our team is sufficiently notified, and that they’re ready to play hardball if necessary. Got it?”
Nodding, he gets to his feet. “Got it.”
I dismiss him by turning away, and go back to my computer screen, but I can’t focus. All I can see is that interfering redhead with that mic in her hand, riling up that crowd.
God, is she ever in need of a firm hand. I let myself fantasize about bringing her here, into my office, and bending her over the enormous mahogany desk. How her little fingerprints would mar the gleaming surface, her cheek flush against the glass top. The little squeal she’d issue when I slammed my palm against her full, gorgeous ass before I took her hard and fast.
I look around my office. It’s as big as a suite in one of the most luxurious hotels in Manhattan, with a bathroom and a shower, a small room outfitted with workout equipment, and in the main office area, a huge sofa, small bookshelf, and framed prints of my degrees and accolades.
But beyond this office, the other rooms are vacant. It’s Friday night and everyone’s gone home but me. I often stay late. Hell, there’s a reason why I have suits that stay in my office, workout equipment, a shower, and a pullout sofa.
It’s Friday, though. And I have someone to go see.
Pushing a button on my desk, I ring my driver.
“Sir?”
“Ten minutes,” I tell him.
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up the phone and bring up the footage Jake showed me.
I stare at her mesmerizing eyes, so full of life and fire. Her wild, crazy, vibrant hair. The pert nose dotted in fetching freckles, and full, beautiful lips.
Shutting off my computer, I tidy the area and grab my jacket, before I shut and lock my office.
“Where to, sir? Home?” my driver, Manuel, asks.
I glance at the time. If she’s leaving the bookstore in a bit, I just might catch her. What I’ll do with her if I do, I have no idea. I can’t decide if I want to kiss her pretty, belligerent little lips, or teach her a lesson. None of that little slap and tickle I gave her the other day, but a really good session that makes her cry.
“Books and Cups,” I tell him. “I need to check something.”
“Right away, sir.” It takes us only a few minutes to get there.
I don’t have a plan. I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. Maybe I’m just checking on her. Like a fucking altruist. Because that’s what Liam Alexander is, a philanthropist.
Christ.
Walking into the store, I only see the owner behind the desk. She waves and smiles at me, then turns to serve a customer. I feel a little disappointed. No, I feel a lot disappointed. I came in here ready to fight, and she isn’t here.
I’ll have to ask around.
Taking a book off a shelf, I fan thoughtlessly through the pages when I hear a familiar voice. My heartbeat accelerates like a damn teen’s.
“Feminism through the Ages? Really?”
She’s standing a few feet apart from me, with her hands on her hips.
“Yes,” I tell her in a bored voice. “I like to see what stupidity they’re propagating now.”
The comment has the desired effect, as her fetching cheeks flush pink. “I—you—how dare you!” she fumes.
“How dare I what?” I ask. “Critique a cause that’s near and dear to you?”
“I—argggh,” I’ve rendered her speechless.
Enough of this. I close the book and place it back on the shelf, rounding on her.
“How dare you?” I ask. I step toward her and she backpedals, her pretty eyes widening. “Getting involved in things that don’t involve you. Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Blinking, she pauses, then looks wildly about the store as if she’s going to call for help. Hell, I’m waiting for it.
But she doesn’t.
“What are you talking about?” she says. “I have no idea—oh. Oh, no. Oh, God!”
Her sudden change of tone surprises me.
“What?” I scowl at her.
Closing her eyes, she smacks her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she says. “We’ll have to resume our argument later. I have to go.”