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)
My jaw is on the floor now. Yeah, I absolutely didn’t expect this. And I have to admit, I’m impressed that he was man enough to call me and apologize.
But at the same time, I can’t forget the way he treated Summer with such blatant disrespect. I’m not sure if one apology makes up for that.
“I told you, I’m not interested in working for someone like you,” I say brusquely.
“And I’m urging you to reconsider. I need someone like you on my team, kid. Someone who challenges me, stands up to me. Someone to remind me that before I was an arrogant prick, I was a nerdy kid who loved video games.”
I hesitate for a moment. “If you want me to reconsider, then you need to give me time to think about it,” I finally say.
“Understandable. Take a few days. Hell, a week, two weeks. But I require a firm answer by the end of the month.”
“Fine. I’ll get back to you. Anything else?” I’m being rude again, but the fashion show starts soon. And Summer is more important to me than this, as he aptly described himself, arrogant prick.
“Just think it over,” he cajoles.
“I said I would.” And I meant it. I’ll take the time to decide if working for Kamal is worth it for me, but if he expects me to jump through hoops for him again, he’ll be sorely disappointed. There’s only one person whose hoops I’ll happily jump through, and she’s not even asking me to.
“I’ll be in touch, Mr. Jain.” And then I sign off with a series of words that never in a million years would I have imagined myself saying. “I’ve gotta go walk the runway at my girlfriend’s fashion show now.”
32
Summer
“That man really loves you.”
“I know,” I answer Brenna, unable to fight a sappy grin.
We’re standing backstage, watching as my boyfriend walks the lengthy runway bisecting the enormous ballroom of the Arbor House, a historic mansion in Hastings and our venue for tonight. Fitz’s swim briefs hug his perfect ass, and his thigh muscles ripple with power as his long strides eat up the runway.
On the other side of the wings, Bianca and her Kappa sisters are also enjoying the show. Every time another half-naked hockey player steps onto the stage, they sigh dreamily. The girls already strutted their stuff to thunderous applause. My bikinis were a hit, but the plunging one-piece Bianca closed the girls’ line with was the clear winner of the night.
Bianca catches me looking, and she gives an enthusiastic wave. I wave back with a smile. I didn’t see Kaya in the audience tonight, which tells me she never ended up endorsing her sisters’ side project. But who cares. The Kappas came through for me, and I owe them for that.
Beyond the curtains, Fitz reaches the end and does the turn like we’d practiced, albeit awkwardly. The people occupying the rows of seats on either side of the runway break out in applause, and my smile doubles in size.
As I suspected, the briefs are a wee bit loose in the front, since Rex’s rocket is slightly bigger than Fitzy’s. But that’s not to say my man doesn’t fill out a pair of briefs fantastically. And besides, I honestly wouldn’t have cared if half the swimsuits hadn’t fit. I’m just thrilled we managed to find replacements for all six players.
Someone else isn’t as thrilled, though. Erik Laurie sits in the front row with the other members of the faculty, including Mallory Reyes, the department head. Laurie holds his program in his lap, fashionable as ever in a pinstriped suit and with his hair slicked away from his high forehead and clean-shaven face.
A face that’s harder than stone as he stares at my model. Correction, at my boyfriend, who is so fucking hot it’s almost…otherworldly. Yup. No other way to describe the oiled-up, muscled, tattooed man putting himself on display for me.
“I want to go out there and bang him on the runway,” I growl. “In front of everybody. I don’t even care.”
“I don’t blame you,” Brenna answers. “Look at that body. He’s magnificent.”
He really is. And the relief on his face when he returns backstage is almost comical.
“I feel like I’m going to ralph,” he groans.
I tamp down a laugh. “You were so good!” I assure him. “But, quick. We need to get Rex’s trunks on you because you’re walking again after Nate.”
Each designer was given our own dressing space sectioned off by a curtain, and I shove Fitz toward mine. His second swimsuit is nowhere near as skimpy as the first one. I saved the trunks for last so he could be done with the awkward briefs right off the bat.
Fitz scratches his bare chest, then remembers that Brenna and I rubbed oil over all the guys before the show started. His big paw is glistening now, and he bites his tongue seductively before saying, “I’m all oily. Can you take these off for me?”