Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Emilia and I met for the first time that Sunday. We bonded instantly—so much so that after a month of play dates and constant phone calls, Mr. Korslova pulled my dad aside to tell him of his plan. He would pay for a first-class education for me so that Emilia and I wouldn’t be separated.
Fast forward to now and that explains why I’m graduating from a high-priced, glorified finishing school. Mr. Korslova forced Emilia to go there and didn’t want her to be alone.
It also explains why I’m in Miami’s hottest restaurant, where the water costs more than my part-time job could afford. I push away the uneasiness, ready to ignore it, but it’s harder to ignore the feeling when I know someone is staring at me. It’s so intense that when I look up, I can immediately pick out who is doing it.
I find it hard to look away from the dark eyes raking over me. He’s so handsome that I fight the urge to look behind me to see if he might be looking at someone else. His hair is a mixture of dark and golden brown, with a slight curl to it. A neatly trimmed beard surrounds his full lips and does nothing to hide the edge of his jawline. He’s mouthwatering and gorgeous.
I stumble a step, causing Emilia to grab my elbow as I try to hide that I just tripped over my heels.
“What’s wrong?” she whispers.
“The guy with Niko is staring at me,” I explain, discreetly. I’d rather he not know that I’m talking about him.
Emilia frowns as she looks toward the table. “Oh, that’s Callan. He’s Niko’s best friend and attorney.”
“Attorney?” I ask. “Eww.” I scrunch my nose. We laugh it off but cut it short as we get to the table.
The men stand as we arrive, and I find myself feeling dwarfed by their size. Niko takes Emilia’s hand, pulling her forward slightly to press a kiss to her forehead. When she’s ready to sit, he takes control there, too. I go to sit down across from Emilia, and Callan mimics Niko, pulling out my chair for me.
“Thank you,” I respond, trying hard not to blush. He smiles at me, and I notice what a great smile he has.
I must remind myself that he’s not for me. I shouldn’t want his attention. I don’t live in the same world that he does. His suit likely costs more than my car. Admittedly, my crappy car is only one step above Fred Flintstone’s foot-powered vehicle. If one more part goes out, I’ll be hitchhiking to work.
“You ladies look beautiful tonight,” Niko says. While the compliment is nice, I note that he’s not taken his eyes off my bestie since she walked in. A small smile curves my lips. I know Emilia like his attention—even if she tries to pretend that she doesn’t. I want it to work out between them. Emilia deserves happiness.
“You guys look nice, too,” Emilia says with a soft smile.
The guys start talking about something else, giving me a second to kick Emilia under the table. She looks at me and mouths the word what? I make my eyes big as I mouth back the word nice in question. She rolls her eyes at my teasing. Callan catches the exchange and laughs but covers it with a poor excuse of a cough. I look up at him to see the laughter sparkling in his dark eyes. He really is sexy-hot. It makes me sad. Why couldn’t he be the waiter here? That’s much more my speed.
He keeps looking at me and heat spreads through my chest as a blush creeps into my cheeks. I break eye contact, flustered by his attention. I can’t seem to stop myself from reacting strangely to him. It’s weird. I never do this around other guys. I mean, admittedly the guys I know aren’t as good-looking as Callan, but they’re cute. Still, he’s not for me. Even if what I said to Emilia about a man like Niko wanting to marry me was true, it’s not feasible. I want a man I have things in common with. I want to be comfortable with who we are together, not feel out of my depth. We’re just not in the same social classes. No, the woman that Callan has in his life would wear designer clothes and most certainly doesn’t cut her own hair in her bathroom mirror. Her father is likely not a cook at a no-name restaurant, either. I can almost guarantee this man has never set foot in a place like that.
After ordering our food, the conversation goes to graduation. While Niko and Emilia are chatting about it, Callan turns to me.
“Are you graduating, too?” he asks, slightly turning his body to face me.
“I am,” I admit. “We’ve been in the same class since elementary school. That’s also how long we’ve been best friends.”