Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“It wasn’t really a promotion. I’m still an analyst.” I roll my eyes.
“Can’t you just play along?”
“Fine . . . I’ll own the place,” I say and give an exaggerated evil laugh, steepling my fingers.
He chuckles. “You know what? I actually wouldn’t put that past you. Then lunches will forever be on you.”
A group of men, all wearing suits and wheeling suitcases behind them, walk through the door, and my breath catches in my throat.
Charles leads the pack, talking over his shoulders to one of the men I recognize from the meeting. One of the clueless executives.
He commands the room, garnering stares from everyone around us.
It’s not just me affected by his mere presence. Go figure.
“What are you looking at?” Asher asks, twisting around to get a look for himself.
“Stop,” I whisper-shout. “Don’t let him see you staring,” I hiss.
Asher turns back to me, eyes wide and a grin smeared across his too-pretty face. “Who exactly am I hiding from?”
I lean across the table. “It’s Charles Cavendish.”
His brows lift into his hairline. “That’s the elusive Cavendish?” He looks over his shoulder, and I slap the table to get his attention.
“Asher,” I bite out. “Stop. He’ll see us.”
He rolls his eyes. “The man’s preoccupied, Raven. I can’t believe he’s so young. Not what I expected.”
If that isn’t the understatement of the century.
“You and me both,” I murmur.
His lip curls. “Do you have a crush on your boss?”
“No.” It comes out all wrong, and my cheeks heat. “Of course not. That would be . . .”
“Inappropriate,” Asher offers.
“Highly.”
My head lifts to find Charles looking in my direction. His face is blank, and I wonder what’s going through his head. He holds my gaze for several seconds, causing goose bumps to rise on my arms and my belly to dip.
I hate the reactions he causes. Asher was right. It’s inappropriate.
One of the men says something to Charles, and it breaks the connection. I blow out a harsh breath, turning my attention back to Asher, who’s staring at me like I have two heads.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Anyway,” he says, turning the subject away from Charles. “Tell me about your plans for Diosa. I’m interested in why Summer Smith was so high on their list. Did they even reach out to her?”
I shrug, taking a big bite of my sandwich. “No clue. But it doesn’t sound like it,” I say between mouthfuls. “I did some research, and apparently, her contract ended with her former partners. Her agent is shopping around. He wants to get another deal on the table for her since she’s not going on tour this year.”
“Interesting,” he says, looking at his phone.
“Do you need to go?” I ask.
His brows are knitted together, and I wonder what he’s looking at.
“Not yet. My boss is on a rampage. He must’ve found out about Diosa.”
I press my lips together, not wanting to discuss that any further.
“That was the big deal on the table,” he continues. “I’m not due back for another twenty. Tell me, what are you cooking up?”
I have quite a few ideas that I’m putting together, but I’m not ready to share them with anyone.
“I’m still working on it. Very early stages,” I say, taking another bite.
The two of us sit for the rest of the lunch break, talking about Asher’s accounts and life in the advertising world. I’m grateful for the reprieve from shifting through résumés.
When we stand to leave, I give him a big hug.
“What is that for?” he asks.
I shrug. “For lunch. It was just what I needed.”
He offers me a large smile. “Same.”
He pulls me to his side, walking me toward the door.
“You’ll always have me, Raven.”
That’s one thing I know for sure. No matter where life takes us, I’ll always have Asher in my life. It’s comforting, especially during a period of so much change and uncertainty.
My career is looking up, as long as I can continue to resist whatever strange pull this is between my new boss and me.
12
Charles
My jaw clenches as I stalk to the lift. I trudge along on my path, barely able to control the emotions working their way through my body.
Who the fuck was she eating with?
Why do I bloody care?
Is she sleeping with him? Is he her boyfriend?
Fuck.
What do I even know about her? I didn’t read through her CV; I just know what Shelby told me. She has her MBA and worked internships and part-time roles in marketing firms to get the experience she has now.
Oh, shit! She could be married, for crying out loud.
Wait, she doesn’t wear a ring, so she’s not married or engaged.
That doesn’t always stop someone, as I bloody well know.
My tongue was in her damn mouth only a few weeks ago. I cannot stop replaying those moments when her lips parted for me.
Yes, she stopped us, but for a brief moment, she didn’t . . .