Total pages in book: 189
Estimated words: 174749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Even though I despise the spotlight, it’s impossible for me to get rid of all the superfluous attention. I became, after all, New York’s youngest Governor in history at the age of 29. If you add the fact that I’m worth $730 million dollars, all from tech companies I built after serving in Iraq, and keep in shape by working out every single day… Well, you know where I’m going with this.
Yeah, okay. I've got the 8-pack abs. I've got the pecs. I’ve never done it before, but other women have measured my cock. I mean really measured it, not just putting it in their mouths to call it measuring. They tell me I’m 12 inches, base to tip.
It seems the ladies love that.
Being single doesn’t help matters too; judging by all the attention women’s magazines give me, my marital status seems like a big deal. To be honest, I don’t really mind the attention women devote to me ... as long as that doesn’t get in the way of my job. I’m more than willing to sleep with hot women, but if they think I’ll put them up on a pedestal, they’re mistaken.
If they think I’ll sacrifice my time from this job to satisfy their desire for a boyfriend, they’re a bit mistaken.
They don’t know who I am if they think that.
And who exactly am I?
I’m the man who won the Governor’s race two years ago. I passed signature legislation that will have a direct and material change on the people of this State, which will let them live longer.
Despite all of this, I don’t play who I am up to the media. I can’t exactly say the same about the King of New Kingston, though. Prancing around like royalty and cutting deals like an Emperor, this bastard must think himself above the law. Too bad that, as far as he’s concerned, I’m the law.
“Governor Andrews,” calls out a petite blonde woman, a pile of folders clutched close to her chest. I stop, looking at her as she takes a deep breath and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Judging by her white button up shirt and professional tight skirt, she seems to be part of the Mayor’s entourage. “I’m here to take you to the Mayor’s office,” she says, her cheeks flushing the moment we lock eyes. “The… the Mayor already knows you’re here, and he’s waiting for you!”
“Good,” I tell her, politely smiling, “I’m on a tight schedule, so just lead the way.”
Her cheeks flush even more and she looks down at her feet, trying to avert my gaze. Eventually, she turns on her heels and I follow after her. We walk to the second floor and she takes me down a hallway, stopping in front of two wooden double doors, a grand entrance to the Mayor’s office.
“Go ahead, Governor,” she tells me, stepping aside with a coy smile. I look at her with a wide smile, reading the eagerness all over her face. I’d just have to say the word and she’d be on her knees in a heartbeat. But I didn’t come here to allow myself to get distracted; I have a job to do.
“Thank you,” I tell her, and reach for the handle of the door and turn it. I step inside the office, my pupils widening in response to the dim light inside: the curtains are drawn, and aside from a lamp in the corner, the lights are out. Standing behind a massive oak desk is Liam Jeffries, the infamous New Kingston mayor. He has his feet propped up on the desk, his hands behind his head, and a lazy grin on his face. I didn’t exactly expect a warm reception, but this is almost too much. I have the sense that he’s doing it on purpose, just to spite me.
“Here he is—the wonder Governor in the flesh, Carter Andrews!” he says merrily, taking his feet from the desk and standing up. He draws the curtains, sunlight streaming into the room and filling it with a warm gentle light. Squinting his eyes, Liam extends me his hand. “Sorry, late night yesterday,” he tells me, not bothering to hide the fact that his late night had nothing do with work. He has “hangover” written all over his face. Not that it surprises me; from the stories I’ve heard, Liam lives for two things only: pussy and liquor.
“I figured as much,” I say, shaking his hand firmly. I can do without all the formality most politicians love so much, but Liam’s casual ways just manage to piss me off. After all, I didn’t come here to be his buddy. I came with a warning.
“So, what brings such a busy man to my humble office?” he asks, sitting back down on his chair and pointing to the other one in front of the desk, offering me a seat. I sit, unbuttoning my jacket, and prepare my words.