Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
With questionable luck on my side, considering everything, my heart races, I hurry into my office and shut the door. Leaning on the hard surface for stability, I’m already blasted back in time, where I stood in this spot and Tyler’s mouth ended up between my legs. The repeat of this memory is obviously my mind’s way of telling me this is where this mess started.
When I should have said no.
Well, I’m saying no now.
I shove off the door and set my stuff on the desk before I walk to my window. My view is stunning. All of downtown Nashville wants a view of the city like mine. My mind travels back to the day I was promoted. I’d planned to focus my agenting on literary works as my bread and butter, but one evening I met a certain country singer at a mixer, and she’d been burned by an agent. After a few hours with me, I’d offered her advice, truly concerned for her. She’d shown up at the office the next morning and declared me her agent. Six months later, we signed a huge record deal. It was one of a handful of prestigious deals that came to me in those months. I just love how it feels to change lives, and I was learning that then, riding the joy of it all while enjoying my own success as well.
Shortly after that deal was inked, I’d been at my desk when Tyler called me to his office. I remember the racing of my heart when I’d entered his domain to find him behind his desk, looking gorgeous as ever and radiating command. I’ve often reacted that way to the moments I came face-to-face with Tyler, and in turn, often blown it off to admiration and respect when deep down, I knew it was more. He always seems to own a room, and I react to that power, to that presence he possesses. That day was no exception.
I sit in front of his desk, and he stares at me with those brutal blue eyes, seconds ticking by with unnerving slowness before he says, “I thought your brother was going to be your career ride?”
I bristle. “Excuse me?”
“I’d rather not,” he declares. “I’d rather you keep doing what you’re doing, even if it means you burst into my office demanding answers at the most inopportune times.”
“You mean like last week? In the rooftop bar?”
“Of course, I mean last week. We were closing a deal with one of the largest studios on planet Earth when you burst in and insisted on talking to me.”
“You know I had a client about to walk.”
“You were immune to my irritation.”
In response, I shift uncomfortably in my seat and his lips curve. “I liked it.”
I blink. “What? You liked it?”
“I’m giving you a raise, a promotion, and a better office. See my assistant for the details. Now, go back to work because if you slack off now, I’ll be pissed, and not even your brother will save you.”
“Are you saying my brother saved me at some point?”
He laughs this low, deep laugh I feel a little too low in the belly for comfort. “No. He has not.” His tone hardens. “And he won’t. Ever. Don’t forget that.” He softens his voice again. “You were a good gamble, Bella. The rich girl didn’t need the money but wanted the success. You’re like no one I’ve ever hired. Or known, for that matter.”
The office—this office—is a status symbol, much like his expensive suits. A signal to all that I’m on top, offered to me for a job well done. If anyone found out that I slept with Tyler, it would be assumed I did so to earn this office. I should be angry, and I am, but there is so much more going on inside me right now. Some part of me not only wanted him to make this right, I expected him to make this right.
But I’m not really sure how I thought he’d do that.
Declare he has real feelings for me?
As if Tyler loves anyone but himself. Not that love has anything to do with any of this, I think, with an irritating twist of my gut. But to me, marriage is a sanctuary of sorts. It’s about love and commitment—the kind of love and commitment my parents shared—but, of course, Tyler wouldn’t understand such things. His parents were not in love. They barely tolerated each other. His father didn’t know how to stay in his own bed. His father also forced all of this on him. Good Lord, now I’m making excuses for Tyler actually offering me that contract instead of talking to me instead.
Bottom line, he needs an employee, and the contract is appropriate under those terms.
He’ll do what he has to do, and I’ll just do my job. But the idea of his engagement announcement guts me, which is telling. I’m way too emotionally invested in a man who sees me as nothing but a contract.