Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
I expected Birdie to protest, but she smacks her lips happily. “I always have room for dessert.”
It probably wasn’t meant to sound suggestive, but the image of her licking cream off my dick springs to mind.
Chapter Eight
Birdie
All of them watch me. I should be used to it by now. When I go out to events and parties, people are always watching. They take pictures and write up articles. This is different. They aren’t thinking about what I’m wearing or the usual surface things.
They are judging me. Tucker doesn't like me at all. I hadn’t missed his muttered comment about me being broke. I tried to keep a smile on my face. I get it. They know my mother and why I’m here. Even if Calder pushed for me to come with him, saying it was his uncle’s wish.
I’m not broke, but I’m pretty darn close. My trust is draining quickly. Especially with all the expenses I keep having to pay in order to get my show together. Trying to make it into a spring campaign hasn’t been cheap. It's either go big or go home at this point. I have nothing left to lose. Problem is, I have nowhere to go home to. This is it for me. I really don’t have time to drop off the map and try to come back. I’ll quickly be forgotten.
Even though I know that I might have a chunk of money coming to me in the future, I don’t trust it. It’s too good to be true. When it comes to these things, there are always some kind of strings attached. The trust I’d gotten from my own family had all sorts of stipulations.
I moan when I take my first bite of the apple turnover, wanting to forget about all that for a moment. I shouldn’t be eating it, but today was stressful. I kept waiting to run into my mother, but she never popped up on me. I’d been on edge all day while Calder showed me around.
“Stop!” Calder suddenly barks as I’m about to take my next bite. My eyes fly open. At least everyone is staring at him now and not me. “Why don’t we have the dessert in my office instead?” He pushes back from his chair, grabbing my plate out from in front of me before I can respond.
“Okay.” I quickly get up from my seat. “Thank you for dinner.” I give them all a smile before I follow after Calder, who is already leaving the table.
A few of them let out chuckles, and Tucker mutters something under his breath again. This time I don't catch it. I hate that it bothers me. In a few months I’ll never see these people again. I shouldn’t care what they think about me, but for some reason I do. I want them to like me. I might not be a part of their family unit, but it was nice watching them all together. It gave me a longing for something I try to always push to the back of my mind.
I have to run to try to keep up with Calder. I want to tell him he’s awfully bossy. He doesn't wait for responses half the time, already knowing people are going to do as he told them. I keep my mouth shut because he is, after all, trying to help me.
It doesn't help that his sweet bossiness is one of the things I find most attractive about him. When he showed me around today, he often barked orders at people. He’d also stop and help them do whatever it was he was telling them to do.
“You shouldn’t steal a dessert right out from under a girl, you know,” I tease him as we enter his office.
“Maybe I’ll let you have mine too.” He gives me one of his rare smirks as he shuts the door behind us with his foot. His hands are full of the two plates. I follow him over to the sitting area in his office in front of the fireplace. He sets the plates down.
“You don’t have to pay off my debts. I’ll get it handled,” I say when I take a seat. He sits down right next to me, his thigh pressing against mine. My body heats.
“I want to.” He leans forward, picking one of the plates back up.
I catch his eyes lingering on my legs. I caught him doing it a few times today, which surprised me a bit. When he walked into the conference room the other day, he hadn't given the half-naked models even a lingering glance. Today his eyes have been all over me. At first I thought I was making things up in my head until I started watching more closely.
“Why?” I ask, about to reach for my own plate but stop when he lifts his fork to my mouth.