Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
A series of deep grunts follows that, along with a chorus of moans coming from the woman currently getting screwed in what I assume is the bed, judging by the sound of the rhythmic pounding of the headboard into the wall.
“Every woman wants to be fucked just like this!” she squeals.
I pick up the watch and hold it in my hand. I know it’s expensive. I’m tempted to smash it against the floor.
I thought I was Rook’s only lover, but that was foolish.
Why would I be?
We never discussed being exclusive. The agreement was to sleep together a few times, then part ways.
At no time did we talk about other people.
A tear slides down my cheek and lands on the face of the watch. I scrub it off by rubbing it on the front of my dress.
My eyes catch on the inscription on the back of it.
To Rook.
Forever and a minute more.
Chesca
The screen of a phone inside a pink case next to the bowl lights up with an incoming text message.
Are you with him now, Nia? Is he as good as you thought he’d be?
My gaze wanders to the dark blue suit jacket and matching pants on the floor. A red dress makes a stark puddle on the light hardwood floors next to a light blue button-down shirt. Nude high heels and a pair of men’s dress shoes are nearby.
The woman screams out as I drop the watch back into the bowl. “I’m coming! Oh my God! I’m coming again!”
A low growl fills the air as her lingering moans drown out whatever he’s saying.
He’s my only lover. He’s the only lover I ever wanted, but I’m not all he wants. He wanted a woman named Nia today, maybe someone else tomorrow, and eventually, he’ll want others.
I can’t blame him.
The rule Rook said to me before we made love for the first time rings in my ears as I leave the suite and him behind.
“Don’t fall in love with me, Carrie.”
“Too late,” I whisper as I quietly click the door shut behind me and walk to the bank of elevators with tears streaming down my cheeks.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Rook
I whack my phone against my palm, hoping that will wake the damn thing up.
“It’s dead,” Joan Pulliam, the woman I just spent the past five hours with, points out the obvious. “You need to charge it, Rook.”
I’m tempted to tell her I’m aware, but she’s paying me way too much to be curt with her. Besides, she’s an old friend of my mother’s.
When Joan called me last week to request a time to go over her will, I almost suggested she meet with a lawyer specializing in estate law, but she’s been with our firm for years. As such, we handle everything that pops up for her that falls under the umbrella of what a skilled attorney can do.
She’s greedy with my time, and insists that I don’t take calls or even look at my phone when I’m with her. Given what my hourly rate is, I can’t blame her for that.
“I can grab you a charger,” she offers, peering down the hall of her massive penthouse. “Or I’ll have someone do that for me.”
Huffing out a laugh, I shake off the offer. “Can I borrow your phone to call Svea? I need to check in to see if there’s anything pressing that I should address.”
I already know nothing requires my immediate attention because I told my assistant to call Joan’s cell in case of an emergency. Still, I want to check in.
She walks over to the granite-topped island in the center of her kitchen to pick up her cell phone. “You mean you want to check to be sure Kirbs is all right.”
I smile at her use of my daughter’s coveted nickname. “You know me.”
“I know you’re a great dad,” she says as I dial Svea’s cell number.
I toss her a grin in gratitude before I set my attention on the call.
“Hey, boss,” Svea says with a sigh. “I see you either lost your phone again or it died again.”
Her repeated use of the word ‘again’ is only mildly annoying. Svea is a great assistant, and I’ve come to realize that my job would be a hell of a lot harder if I didn’t have her to depend on.
“It died,” I admit. “I’ll have it charged up within the hour.”
Joan wanders away to set the tea kettle back on the stove.
Like Maura, Joan has a distinct love of tea. Her collection rivals Maura’s, and even though I’m not a tea drinker, I indulged in a few cups today.
The old adage of doing whatever it takes to satisfy the client comes to mind.
“Anything I need to know about?” I ask.
“Kirby is great,” she assures me. “I called Chesca about ten minutes ago to check in. She appreciated it, I think. We had a nice chat about the guy she’s dating.”