Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
She tilts her head, looking at me with a considering expression. “And if I say no? Do I just wake up in a restaurant, halfway through a lobster bisque?”
I allow myself a little chuckle at that notion. “I know this is an unorthodox way of courting a woman, but I don’t think either of us are entirely normal, are we?”
“You’re weirder than I am,” she says, accurately.
“Little girl… you have no idea.”
Charlie
Thank god I’ve managed to dress myself before confronting him in the hall, which still smells like pee. He does not belong here. This is not an environment for billionaires. It’s a place for average people struggling to get by.
He’s messing with me. He’s enjoying whatever game it is we’re playing. I don’t know what the rules are. There probably aren’t any rules at this point.
I am angry. I am scared. But I am also secretly thrilled, because it is occurring to me that although yes, every interaction I have had with this man has been terrible for me, I am being given yet another chance to infiltrate his world. I thought for sure I’d messed it all up completely when I ran out of that bar last night, but I think I piqued his interest.
I don’t think Marcus is used to anybody running from him. I think he’s used to people fawning all over him and doing anything and everything they can to stay in his company. They definitely don’t kick him out of their apartments. Somehow, just by being my disastrous self, I’ve actually managed to attract this billionaire.
I have to try not to be obviously excited. I have to go with my instincts. And right now, my instincts are to walk back inside my apartment and slam the door in his face.
So I follow them. Just to keep things organic.
“Well,” I say. “You can buy whatever you want. You can buy a building. You can buy the air we breathe. But you can’t buy me.”
I spin on my heel, storm back into my apartment, and fling the door as hard as I can.
I’m expecting to hear a very satisfying slam that might even be hard enough to do damage to the door and maybe the frame. The landlord will have to fix that.
Instead, that big wall of a man catches the door before it can bang home and follows me into my room. He just can’t leave me alone.
“The problem with you is that you’re untamed,” he says.
“The problem with you is you’re a privileged asshole.”
I might have to tone this back if I want him to keep me around, or not evict me. The sassy act probably has its limits.
“You’re going to pay for every single one of these little jibes,” Marcus says. “So you can say what you like now, but I am telling you that you will regret it.”
There’s a smirk on his face that indicates I might regret it, but he will enjoy it. I’m in trouble of a very specific kind.
“I want to see you this evening,” he says.
I hesitate. “You just told me I’m going to regret spending time with you, and now you want me to spend time with you. Do I seem stupid?”
“No. You seem curious and foolhardy,” he says. “My car will pick you up at eight.”
With that, he turns and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. I want to storm after him and slam it just for my own edification, but I resist the urge. The last thing Marcus Waterstone needs to know is that I am a huge brat. I’ve got to try a little harder to play the submissive.
But first, I have to make some progress writing my article. I reach for my laptop, but the memory of Marcus standing there, smirking at me and at it, makes me hesitate. It doesn’t feel private anymore. Nothing feels private anymore. My apartment and life have been thoroughly invaded. That means if I want any kind of privacy, I’m going to have to make it for myself.
Pushing my laptop aside, I reach for the drawer underneath the counter and pull out an old fashioned yellow ruled pad, along with a ballpoint pen.
And I start writing.
CHAPTER 5
Marcus
I’m not sure what to expect when I arrive to pick Charlie up. Will she be defiantly wearing sweats and unprepared to come out? I know she hasn’t left the building all day. My watchers have kept me apprised of her movements. She’s been indoors. She’s given absolutely nothing away. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she rebuffed my invitation. She can’t look at me without rebellion sparking in those pretty brown eyes.
I draw my car up outside her building and step out. To my surprise, I do not have to look far for her. She is standing outside, wearing a short black skirt and a long black coat, with boots that go all the way up to her thighs. That combination could bring any man to his knees. Looking at her feels like taking a kick to the gut.