Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
She was always going to be hurt.
Sighing heavily, I lay down again and stared at the ceiling.
I didn’t want that stupid magazine cover. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do the show. And I had mixed feelings about leaving Etoile so soon.
But one thing I knew for sure—I hated that tonight had ended this way. If I had more time alone with Ellie, I was sure I could make her understand my side of things. That I hadn’t hidden anything from her on purpose. That I was trying to protect her feelings as long as I could. That I wasn’t leaving Etoile because I was unhappy or thought it was too small town or something. That tonight had meant something to me beyond just having a good time.
But tomorrow, we’d get up and drive home, and she’d probably be cold and silent the entire way. Our relationship wouldn’t even return to its previous state of flirty antagonism—she’d likely ignore me entirely. I probably wouldn’t be able to get a rise out of her anymore. All the ground we’d gained inside Room 13 at the Pineview Motel would be lost.
Unless we were still stranded here.
There was that possibility—two feet of snow might keep us buried another night.
But I didn’t want to leave it to chance.
TEN
ELLIE
I lay awake for hours, struggling to make sense of my feelings.
There was the obvious hurt that Gianni had been offered the 30 Under 30 spot and Tastemaker cover when I’d had my heart set on it, but after the initial anger and humiliation wore off, I didn’t think that’s what was bothering me.
I mean, could I blame Fiona Duff for wanting to put him on the cover? He’d sell magazines. He’d get online hits. And Tastemaker was a business that had to worry about its bottom line, not just about rewarding good or interesting work.
I wasn’t all that stunned by the news that he’d been offered another reality show either. Honestly, I’d figured that was inevitable. It had never made sense to me why he’d come back to Michigan anyway, let alone signed a six-month contract with Abelard to open Etoile. And if he took the offer, I’d be rid of him.
So what was my problem?
After I’d sorted through it all a hundred times, I was left with one thing—I didn’t want him to go.
But that was absurd! Why wouldn’t I want him to go? It’s not like I’d miss him. I’d miss his skill in the kitchen at Etoile and the notoriety he brought, but the restaurant would make a name for itself. We didn’t need him to be successful.
And as for the personal feelings, well . . . there weren’t any. At least, there wouldn’t be any as soon as the stupid oxytocin wore off. Just because he’d given me a few orgasms and we’d had some laughs tonight didn’t diminish what he’d done to me his entire life, which was ruin my nice things for sport.
My sharp crayons. My dolls. My Cherry Princess moment. My pride.
And now he’d gone and ruined sex for me too. How was I supposed to find another guy so patient and yet so sizzling hot? A guy I felt comfortable enough with to boss around? A guy who could rile me up with half a smile? A guy who turned me on and drove me crazy in equal measure?
Then again, maybe it was good he was leaving. The last thing I needed was to develop any kind of weird attachment to Gianni Lupo. He’d been bad news my whole life, and this only proved he was bad news now. In the morning, I’d make sure he knew I wanted him to take the offer, and I wouldn’t even be resentful or bitter about it.
Good riddance.
I must have drifted off at that point, because the next thing I knew, the sound of a door slamming yanked me from a deep sleep. I sat up and saw Gianni standing in front of the door, stomping snow off his boots. His wool coat was dusted with snow too.
“Morning, princess.”
“Is it still coming down?” I asked in disbelief.
“Hard.” He brushed off his coat, pulled off his gloves and tossed them aside.
“Is your SUV totally buried?”
“Dead and buried.”
“What do you mean, dead?” I watched as he removed his boots.
“I mean it’s dead. Won’t start.”
“So get someone to jump it.”
“Tried that. Didn’t work.”
My jaw dropped. “So now what?”
“Now we wait for a tow truck.”
“A tow truck?” I got out of bed wearing just Gianni’s white T-shirt and ran for the window, throwing open the drapes. Immediately, I was blinded by the brightness. Everything was white except the pale gray sky, and the snow continued to fall. The parking lot hadn’t been plowed, and most of the cars from last night were still buried.
“Yeah, but the nearest towing company is backed up all day. We’re going to be here a while.” He crossed behind me and went over to the closet.