Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I go high so we don’t negotiate too low. I think I’ve figured this guy out a little and he’ll want to be fair, but he’ll still need to feel like he talked me down.
“Twenty,” he replies, and that magnificent Captain America jaw of his has gone steely.
Now I have him. “Fifty.”
“Forty.”
I hold out my hand. “Done.”
He shakes it and tries to act confident. I try to act like touching this man doesn’t send a wave of heat through me. I am not this horny. It’s nothing more than some static electricity.
But I move back from him as quickly as I can and tell myself this isn’t a huge, impulsive, made-by-my-loins mistake. I’m sitting in a crappy apartment with a dude who is building an AI in honor of his granny, and I just promised to find him serious cash. I tied myself to him, and it cannot have anything to do with the fact that he’s got dreamy eyes. Of course that doesn’t mean I can’t make use of them. It strikes me that he might be a solution to at least one of my problems. The man is hot. He’ll make an excellent accessory for whatever I end up wearing. “All right. So do you have a suit?”
“Yes,” he replies. “Somewhere.”
That scares me. I turn to Darnell, who seems to know way more than his roommate. “Is it an acceptable suit?”
Darnell shrugs. “It’s a boring white dude suit, but it’ll pass in most business places. He could use some new shoes.”
I don’t care about his shoes. He’s a creative and they can get away with a lot, but CeCe will want him in a suit. “If they’re really bad, shove his feet in sneakers and we’ll call him quirky. The party is at seven tonight. I’ll text you where to meet me.”
“I’m sorry. I’m confused,” Heath admits.
“We need money, partner,” I explain as I text him the address of CeCe’s place. “This is one of the ways we get it. It’s okay. All you have to do is look pretty and let me do all the talking. I’ll see you at seven. Don’t be late.”
I walk out before he can argue.
And I would have settled for thirty. I definitely don’t tell him that.
Chapter Four
I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder if anyone can see the tag I’ve hidden under my arm.
I cannot afford this dress. I could buy three hundred and sixty tacos with this dress. A year’s worth of tacos. Well, not the way I eat them, but if I was a delicate princess, it would be a year’s worth. For me it’s more like a couple of months.
Harper is right. I need to work in a salad.
“Pretty dress,” my mother says, glancing into my room. “Is it new?”
“I stopped by Bergdorf.” I say that casually like it’s on the way. It’s not. I’m far from the Upper East Side.
“Why aren’t you wearing that Chanel thing you’re so proud of?” My mother frowns. That frown hasn’t changed in the twenty-nine years I’ve been alive. Probably longer. I’ve seen pictures and my mom seems to have had that judgmental glare even as a child.
The only pictures I ever see of her smiling are ones with my dad. It seems like she was a different person for roughly twelve years. When he was gone, the frown returned.
“I need something new.”
She stares as though she can see through me.
“Fine. I don’t want to wear it because Nick is going to be there, and he knows I only wear it when I feel like I need armor to protect me.”
The frown becomes a light snarl. Since I got back to New York my mom and I fight a lot, but we have one thing in common. My mother hates Nick Stafford. “Little bastard. So you think if he sees you in the dress he’ll know you’re feeling vulnerable and he’ll pounce like the manipulative shit he is. Why is he going?”
I shrug. “He got invited. You know he moved here directly after he quit.”
“Yes. I heard. He has a job. Shouldn’t he be busy ruining someone else’s business?”
Nick might be the only thing we’re of one mind on. “I’m sure he’s going with his bros. You know how they like to run in packs. And he’s always looking to get ahead. He texted me.”
My mother’s gaze threatens to spew fire. “You didn’t block him? Isn’t that what you do to each other these days?”
I sigh. There’s a reason I haven’t blocked him. We still follow each other on socials because if I block his ass, I’ll end up being labeled the crazy, takes-things-too-seriously ex. I am a woman in the world. I have to prove that nothing bothers me because the minute I show weakness, it will be used against me. “We work in the same circles. It’s not like we’re friends, but you know what they say. Keep your friends close and an eye on your enemy’s Insta.”