Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Fuck me.
That shit has gotta go.
No.
What do you mean no?!
No.
Yes. We can’t…exist…like this. We can’t be this goddamn obsessive. We don’t even fucking know her.
Mate.
Mate these nuts and please shut the fuck up about that subject for at least another century.
“I’m not on the fucking clock!” Ana unexpectedly squawks, redirecting everyone’s attention to her. “I mean I work for the company, too—Anais Draak, lead stylist on a number of marketing campaigns—but it’s my day off, so I can wear whatever the fuck I want and not be written up for it.”
“Yeah, I don’t think she’s here to police you, Ana,” Dae carefully points out on an adjustment of her braided locks.
“Correct, Mrs. Draak.” Cameron states on another smug smirk.
“Dae.”
“I’m not here to police her. I’m here to police him.” The finger point my direction has my mouth hastily dropping to respond. “And considering the fact upon our initial meeting he was caught engaged in salacious behaviors-”
“Incorrect, Miss Pennington.”
“-during company hours and on company property, it seems safe to assume that if anyone at DL & Co. needs to be governed it’s him.”
There’s no stopping the steady heaving that begins in my chest; however, there is the stopping of my voice courtesy of A.D.
“Wait, you were having sex at the office?!” His outburst causes me to snap my stare over to him. “We’re not supposed to bang at the office! You’ve given me so much shit about that!”
“And yet you do it anyway,” Z interjects on a small snicker.
“Not the point,” A.D. hisses back after an arrogant chortle.
“I wasn’t banging in my office, dragonhole. I was subduing,” my pointed index finger is jammed towards the glass barrier, “that. Creature.”
“With his cock evidently,” Cameron playfully pokes prompting me to release a heavy frustrated puff of shimmery, platinum smoke.
“My cock does not belong in this conversation!”
“When did it become okay to say cock this much at the office?” Ana inquires, her pierced eyebrow quirking once more. “Is that a new rule? Can we make an amendment to add fuck to the list? I’ve been getting into so much shit lately for saying it.”
“No offense, Miss Pennington,” Z loudly speaks over the bubbling banter, “but why is HR here?” His blue-gray gaze cuts to me. “In this room?”
Mate.
No. No fucking way I am about to say something so untrue.
Truth.
Okay, but I don’t want it to be true.
And?
And therefore, it isn’t!
No.
Yes!
No.
Yes!
No!
Frustrated garbles spew from me alongside another puff of smoke, “HR is here because my inner voice won’t shut the fuck up about her-”
“That’s called a conscience, Mr. Draak.”
“It’s called an ancient dragon, Pint-Size.”
“What the fuck did I say about calling me pint-size, beanstalk!?”
Like.
No. Absolutely fucking not! We do not like being called beanstalk!
Fun.
It’s not fun!
Funny.
It’s not that, either!
Is.
“Not much for a rulebook follower let alone reader, but I gotta assume that there’s one in there about slinging around insults,” Ana casually chimes in.
“There’s an entire chapter devoted to proper language of communication among colleagues and employees,” Cameron replies, green glare still pasted on me. “However, since Mr. Draak has taken it upon himself to give me a nickname without my consent, I have chosen to retaliate in the same nature as to demonstrate the offensiveness he’s executing.”
“The name isn’t meant to offend, Cameron.”
Confusion twitches itself on her face while curiosity grows on Z’s. “Let me get this straight. Your dragon side has been speaking-”
“Why do you all keep mentioning dragons?” the woman I’m not ready to call my Fated Mate questions.
“You’ve got new platinum streaks in your hair…” my baby brother continues with no regard to the disapproving stare he’s being tossed.
“It’s kind of older man sexy like Gerry from The Unholy,” Ana casually comments causing A.D. to grumble in disapproval and wind his arm around her waist.
“You get aggressive when other males touch her…” Z outlines further as his shit eating grin grows wider. Brighter. “And you’ve given her a nickname.”
I don’t deny the accusations.
Primarily because I can’t.
Why the fuck are there platinum streaks in my hair?
Mate.
So, just finding your so-called Fated Mate makes a being go gray?
Platinum.
You’re the reason I miss barfights the most, you know that?
Same.
Z impishly smirks. “The Goddess of Fate-”
“Has chosen poor fucking timing yet again,” I harshly bite. “I don’t have time for her shit. I don’t have time for this,” my hand flails around the open space, “shit. I have a company to run. I have a social calendar to monitor. I have an evil corporation to destroy. I have a legacy to protect. Everything else can and will wait.”
“Fate waits for no one,” Cameron unexpectedly inserts, damn near stumbling me backwards. When my attention falls to her, she nonchalantly informs, “It’s something my mother used to say to me when I was little and things weren’t going the way I wanted or planned or preferred.” Her hand swiftly pulls her thick black locks to one side of her round face. “Actually, she used to say The Goddess of Fate, but I’ve learned to edit that part out to avoid making others uncomfortable in social settings.”