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)
“Been there, done that gig. It’s not too bad. The climb will be quick for you. If someone like me can get promoted, then you most definitely can.” He shrugs, taking another sip. “Let’s be honest. You’re far more intelligent than me.”
“And better looking,” Lily quips, raising her glass and leaning over Asher to clink it against mine.
“Definitely,” Asher agrees. “Pity we’re going to be working for competing companies. You would’ve been a killer addition to our firm. But between you and me, Cavendish Group is a really good alternative.”
“You don’t say.” My words are dry. Cavendish Group is the best, and Asher knows it. He’d cut off his right arm for a chance to work there. Said so himself before he was offered a position with Bauer Marketing.
“Plus, rumor is they have the most amazing café inside their building. Good coffee every day. What more can you ask for, really?”
I laugh. “You know me too well.”
“Can I get a job there?” Lily chimes in.
Asher and Lily talk about who knows what, and I zone out.
Thoughts of my father creep into my mind. Closing my lids, I see him in my head. The way he used to smile down at me. Always so proud.
His absence never gets easier.
When my hands shake, I know I need a distraction so I don’t fall apart. Dad wouldn’t have wanted that. He would want me to have fun.
Opening my eyes, I lift my glass to my mouth and down the remainder of my drink. As soon as the bubbles hit my lip, my shoulders uncoil.
My gaze moves across the room, taking in the sterile place. It’s void of color, modernistic, and made to attract the wealthy. Little alcoves line the far wall, hiding the elite patrons of Club Silver behind white chiffon curtains.
Men like the ones I’ll be running errands for at Cavendish.
Wealthy. Entitled. Arrogant.
A curtain slides open, and two well-dressed men appear like models being unveiled. The air is practically sucked from the room at their presence. There’s something about the magnetism they possess even from across the space, and I’m not the only one to notice. Several heads are turned in their direction.
Women whisper and gape, making their ogling far too obvious, if the darker-haired man’s smirk is any indication, as he peruses the room. His head nods toward a table of women decked out in glitzy dresses that barely cover their asses. Jewels drip from their necks and arms, making me wonder what the hell they’ve done in their lives to be so successful at such a young age.
They can’t be much older than me.
At twenty-six, I feel like I’ve gotten a late start, but it couldn’t be helped. When your father gets sick, it changes the time frame.
My eyes stray from the darker-haired man to the one who nearly knocks the air from my lungs. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, but trim at the waist. His suit looks tailored to his body like a well-fitted glove.
He’s imposing and beautiful. Even from here, the cut of his jaw gives the impression he’s been carved from stone by a master carver.
Pure perfection.
As if manifested, his head turns toward me, and our eyes lock. My breath hitches, and my stomach flips. He holds my gaze, and I don’t so much as take a breath through the encounter.
It’s unlikely he’s actually looking at me from clear across the room, but I refuse to turn away. An exotic beauty, dressed to the nines, walks up from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering something into his ear.
My stomach twists with jealousy. I don’t understand.
I don’t know this guy, and he’s so far out of my league, it’s depressing.
A small smirk spreads over his handsome face, and my body reacts in ways it never has before. It’s as though he can sense my envy, and he’s lapping it up.
Holy. Shit.
“Raven?” Lily asks, drawing my attention away from the stranger and back to my friends.
My head shakes as I try to knock myself from the trance I’ve been in. To wipe away the lust that one look from a handsome stranger caused.
“Huh?”
“Are you ready to start your job?” she asks, eyes narrowed in on me.
I blink several times, considering her question. “Yes, but—”
“But what?” she presses.
“If I’m being honest . . .” I bite my lip.
“Always.”
“I’m pretty nervous about the whole thing. I’m happy I got the job, don’t get me wrong. And I know I’m qualified, but I still can’t help but worry. What if I mess something up? Am I good enough? What if I screw up this chance? You know what I mean?” These are the moments I miss Dad the most. He would sit me down at our kitchen table, offer me a cookie, and tell me exactly why I deserve this. His lips would part into a large grin, and I would believe him.