Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
I have no idea. But I did as I was told. It tasted disgusting, like drinking seawater, but the food was divine.
A moment after I’ve finished, when I’m just starting to get comfy on the sofa, there’s another knock at the door.
Good grief, what now? I can’t eat another thing.
The knock comes again and I sigh as I get up and head for the door. And as I pull it open, it’s not a delivery at all.
Not unless this is some swanky restaurant that does home deliveries in limousines.
I laugh as the driver touches the brim of his hat when he sees me. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t order a car. Maybe you got the address wrong? Someone has a big night planned though, huh? Between you and me, I’ve never actually been in a limousine.”
“Miss Rochet?”
I freeze, mouth open. I was about to close the door and wish him a good night but… “I’m sorry, is this some sort of joke?”
“No, ma’am.” He shakes his head. “Mr. White sent me. He told me that if you’re not ready I’m to wait as long as needed, so, take your time.”
“Mr. White? You mean James?”
He nods.
“James sent you? Okay, um…” I glance down at my camo fleece pajama pants and gray sweatshirt. “Are you taking me to the game?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So it doesn’t matter what I’m wearing…”
This day just won’t die a quiet death.
But, what the hell, I to ride in a limo.
I grin and put up one finger, closing the door. I waddle-run up the stairs, check on Taylor, switch my fleece pants for leggings and I’m out the door, sitting in the back of my first limo feeling like T. Swift.
I text Azra, sending her a photo of the interior with its black leather upholstery and a mini bar. working for Mason, I never experienced anything like this. Sure, he was rich, but in our hearts, we were just low-level nerds who would rather order in and play board games or watch B level horror movies and laugh until our sides hurt. Limos and nightlife were not on our bingo cards.
As we pull up to a back entrance at the enormous stadium, I’m met by a woman in a blue ‘Savages’ blazer who introduces herself as Tracey.
“I’m the team rep, Miss Rochet. Anything you need—anything at all—just let me know and if it’s in my power to get it for you, I will.”
“I’m Nancy,” I tell her. “I’m sure I won’t need anything. Except, do I need a ticket because
I don’t have one…”
She flashes me a grin. “A reserved seat? Miss— Nancy, you’ll be in the VIP lounge.” I frown when she gives me a bag. “This is yours too. Mr. White asked that you wear it during the game.”
I reach inside and pull out a huge jersey with James’s name written on it. I inhale deeply. It smells like him and even his scent causes lust to swirl through my veins. I quickly put the jersey on over my other clothes, surrounding myself with his scent. And his name on me makes me feel hot and funny. Like he’s marked me as his. A shiver runs down my body, I like that thought. Being his.
“Shall we go?” Tracey asks, bringing me out of my lust hazed reverie.
I follow her in a half daze. The parking lot where the driver left me was quiet, but a huge crowd is gathered at the front of the stadium, waiting to get in.
We don’t go that way.
Tracey takes me in through a small door with no obvious handle. She has to radio someone to open it from the other side. It’s quiet inside, and a staircase brings me out right into a large, comfortable space with a massive window overlooking the rink.
There are a few other women here, and a couple of men, and I’m starting to doubt my choice of outfit. But the jersey I’m wearing makes me feel like I belong.
The women look like they just stepped off a catwalk. I’ve never been a part of this world. I don’t have a clue how to behave, or how to make them like me.
What if it’s like when me and Mason were at school? What if they make fun of me and I hate it here? And the only way out is through a door with no handle.
“Hi! I’m Bel. This is Laura.” The woman in the million-dollar dress grins as she pulls me into a hug, guiding me to a seat beside her and Laura, who’s in a pant suit that looks like it cost more than my old apartment. “Savage’s stepsister, right?”
I nod, waving away a bucket of habanero wings as one of the men passes it my way.
Normally, I don’t turn down food, but honestly, the eating hasn’t stopped today and I’m feeling a little green around the gills.