Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I wanted him on his back in my bed, his body beneath mine.
I wanted to get in his head, to learn all his secrets.
I wanted to stop his lies with my lips on his.
I wanted him to be my distraction.
“Erm. Bash?”
I blinked at Austin. “Yes! God, sorry. I was just thinking over everything you said. It’s… a lot.”
Kenji, who knew I was lying, gave a strangled cough.
Austin, who didn’t, looked confused. He turned to see what I’d been looking at, and his brow furrowed. “Do I know that guy?”
“Doubtful.” I stood, then motioned to Kenji, who tapped a few keys on his tablet that made the picture disappear. “I’m running late for my next meeting, Austin, but seriously, awesome job on this project. Let’s check in again next week. I’ll have Kenji put you on my calendar officially.”
Austin grinned and stood, offering me a handshake. “Sounds great,” he said. He flashed a smile at Kenji, who looked faintly nauseated, then walked out of the office.
Kenji stood slowly, shaking his head. “Holy ulterior motives, Batman. That man wants to kiss your ass in more ways than one.”
“Nah, I don’t get that vibe from him. Austin wants to impress me because I’m on the board of directors at the company he works for. He’s probably hoping for a fat annual bonus, a nice raise, and a promotion if Clarissa ever leaves.”
“You could be right,” Kenji grudgingly agreed.
“I am.” I lifted an eyebrow significantly. “It’s almost as if I’m a decent judge of character, Kenji. Almost like… I know what I’m doing and can handle myself.”
Kenji rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. “Keep telling yourself that, sir,” he called over his shoulder, a grin in his voice. “But every time you do, I’m upping the budget for the Escape Fund.”
“And I’m gonna use it to get myself one of those good personal assistants!” I called back, but Kenji pretended not to hear me.
I asked Morris, my driver, to arrive at the Park Avenue address twenty minutes early so I could hop in the town car and look like he’d picked me up first. The ruse was a little comical, and I felt ridiculous taking part in it… but the minute Rowe approached from the direction of the nearest subway stop, saw the car idling at the curb, and began limping in an exaggerated fashion, I let out a bark of laughter, caught up in the silliness and the challenge of him all over again.
The poor man looked legitimately terrible, with bags the size of suitcases under his eyes, a face pinched with nerves, and his hair even wilder than the night before, like maybe he’d had to run from the train. But somehow, he’d found himself a perfectly tailored pair of dark jeans and a tweed jacket, so whoever was supplying his costumes had leveled up overnight.
I hopped out of the car and threw on my cheeriest smile.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Chase! Are you ready for—oh no! it looks like you have a hitch in your giddy-up.” I held the door open and ushered him in. The scent of coffee and fresh soap wafted off his skin as he took a seat in the deep plush leather seat. “Hopefully nothing that will interfere with your playing today.”
He darted a look at me from under his eyelashes and swallowed hard.
“Ah… Actually, Bash, I’m afraid it might. It very well might. Such a disappointment. You know Sterling Chase loves… playing the ponies.” He shook a fist at the sky. “Curse you, fate!”
Just like that—just like that—any doubts or second thoughts I might have had about whether I was doing the right thing faded away into the pure joy of being in this terrible liar’s presence.
“I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“It’s rather a long story. You see, after I left the gala, I was, um… I was set upon by ruffians. It was quite upsetting.”
I shook my head. “Ruffians,” I repeated in a hushed voice. “On the way to your limo? My god. Did they attack you? Did you hurt yourself running away?”
“Run? Why the hell would I run?” he demanded, eyes narrowed in genuine annoyance. Then, like he’d remembered he was supposed to be in character, he straightened in his seat. “No, my good man, I attacked them.” He nodded once, like he was convincing himself. “I wasn’t trained in martial arts for nothing. But I may have injured myself in the fray.”
“How devastating. Is it your trick knee, sir?” I leaned toward him to palpate his knee, ignoring the hitch in his breathing when I touched him. “Let’s see… it doesn’t feel like anything’s out of place…”
While I had intended to call his bluff, I hadn’t expected my hands to relish the job I’d given them. Rowe’s legs were shapely beneath his dark pants. The muscles curved under my touch and bunched as I squeezed them.