Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I set my untouched beer on the bar and speak in a measured tone. “I’ve never floated through anything. My mom’s an ESL teacher, and my dad is a shift supervisor at a power plant. They work their asses off, and so do I. I spent all my free time in high school drawing and painting and playing video games. And playing hockey,” I relent, even though I know it’s a dirty word to him. “I play hockey because I love it, and I’m good at it. Same way I’m good at game design,” I finish with a shrug.
“You’ve got some real arrogance on you, kid.” A flash of steel enters his eyes.
Summer chooses that unfortunate moment to return to the ballroom. She draws the attention of every person, male and female, as she struts across the shiny floor. She’s stunning and nobody can look away. Everyone wants to be a part of that beauty, even if it’s simply admiring her as she sashays past them.
It’s her orbit.
That damn orbit.
Kamal slings back the rest of his drink. His disdain-heavy gaze never leaves Summer. “Look at her,” he mutters. “You think she’d be with you if you weren’t a jock? Bitches like her only want one thing, Colin.” He laughs coldly. “I bet if I snapped my fingers and told her I was interested, she’d be on my dick faster than you can say gold digger. Why would she waste her time on some low-rent college athlete when she can have a billionaire, right?”
My lips thin. “You don’t know her.”
He chuckles.
Summer is halfway to us now. Her blonde hair catches the light of the huge crystal chandelier over our heads. Her diamond hairclip winks like a strobe with each step she takes.
“Trust me, I know her. Lordy, lordy, do I know her. All I do is date women like her. They don’t give a shit about us, Colin. They’re gone the moment a sweeter deal comes along.”
I could argue, but what’s the point? He’s already made his assumptions about me and Summer, about what it means to be an athlete, a nerd, a pretty girl.
Summer reaches us, and she must glimpse something in my expression that worries her, because she takes my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Kamal guffaws, before tapping the bar to signal the bartender. He smacks it again and again and again, like a bratty kid trying to get his mom’s attention. “Bourbon,” he snaps at the harried woman. He turns back to us. “So what’s your major?” he asks Summer.
She blinks at the sudden change of topic. “Fashion—”
He interrupts before she’s done speaking. “Of course it’s fashion.” Scorn drips from every word.
“You got a problem with fashion?” she asks lightly, but I can tell from her rigid posture that she’s on guard. She manages a teasing laugh. “Because as far as I can tell, you sure do enjoy the company of models.”
He doesn’t laugh back. “I see. Someone like me can’t date beautiful women? Is that what you’re insinuating?”
“Not at all. And clearly you can date beautiful women, because you—”
“They’re only with me for my money? Is that what you think?”
“Of course not. I just—”
“Of course you would think that,” he snaps. His cheeks are slowly reddening. “And guess what, you’re right. That is the only thing pretty bitches like you are after—money. You won’t be signing any prenups, will you, Summer? No, no, no, bitches like you need to be taken care of. You need to spend all my hard-earned cash.”
I move closer to Summer in a protective gesture. “That’s enough,” I say in a low voice. He keeps throwing the word bitch around, and loudly. I suspect he’s talking about one specific woman—the girl from college who wouldn’t sign his prenuptial agreement. But I don’t give a shit if he had his heart broken by the Queen of fucking England. Nobody talks to or about Summer like that.
Kamal isn’t intimidated by the menacing command. He laughs again. A high-pitched sound that grates on my nerves. “It’s enough when I say it’s enough.” He tosses back the last of his bourbon and then tries to place the empty tumbler on the bar. Except he’s about a foot away from it, because he’s drunk as a skunk and lacking all coordination. So he sets the glass down—on nothing.
It crashes to the floor and shatters. Glass shards shoot in all directions, and I quickly pull Summer away from the mess. I look at the bartender. “Could you please call someone to come and—”
“Oh, they’ll come!” Kamal hoots. “Someone always comes to clean up my messes. Wanna know why, Colin? Summer? Hazard a guess?” He starts cackling to himself. “Because I’m a billionaire! I’m a fucking god in the tech industry and I can buy and sell everyone in this fucking room! I—”