Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
He turned on his heel. “See you at the office.” Then he laughed, the sound making me shiver. “Sweetheart.”
I sat down as the door shut, feeling dizzy.
What had I agreed to?
KATHARINE
THE MORNING WAS TENSE FOR me—even Richard felt it. He had little in the way of personal items in the office, but I helped him pack up some awards, books, and a couple shirts he kept on hand for emergencies. I shook my head as I folded one, trailing my finger over the sleeve. All his shirts were custom made, and his initials RVR embroidered into the cuffs; a decadent touch only he could carry off. His items only filled two file boxes. His office was as impersonal as his condo. Glancing around, I realized it didn’t look any different. No one would notice, unless someone was looking.
A small piece of sculpture caught my eye and I stretched up, grabbing it off the shelf. “Did you want to take this, Richard?”
He focused his gaze on the sculpture, but before he could reply, his office door flung open and David strode in. He stopped dead, looking at us. Richard was leaning against his desk, his resignation letter in hand, me standing, holding the sculpture beside an open box. David’s face was like thunder.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Richard pushed off his desk, sauntering over to where I stood. He plucked the sculpture from my hand and smirked as he tossed it into the box and fitted the lid on top.
“I think we’re done here, Katharine. Go to your desk and wait for me.”
I froze in place. The sensation of his fingers drifting down my cheek startled me out of my stupor. “Sweetheart,” he murmured. His voice was a low hum in my ears. “Go.”
I blinked at him.
Sweetheart?
What was he doing?
He bent closer, his breath warm on my skin. “I’ll be fine, go to your desk. We’ll leave in a minute.” His hand wrapped around my waist, pushing me forward.
Completely confounded, I did what he asked. I hadn’t made it more than two feet when David started yelling. He cursed and shouted, reaching out to grab my arm.
Richard pushed him away, standing between us.
“You don’t touch her, David. Do you understand me?”
“What the fuck! Are you . . . are you fucking her, Richard? Are you telling me you’re having an affair with your assistant?”
I held my breath, unsure what would happen next.
“It’s not an affair, David. We’re in love.”
David laughed—a dry, brittle laugh that held no humor. “In love?” he sneered. “You can’t stand her. You’ve been trying to get rid of her for months!”
“A good cover. One you fell for—hook, line, and sinker.”
David’s voice dripped ice. “You just signed your death warrant with this company.”
Richard smirked. “Too late.” He pushed two pages of heavy company stationery in David’s direction. “I quit. So does my fiancée.”
David gaped. “Your fiancée? You’d throw your career away over a trashy piece of ass? A lousy, worthless fuck?”
It happened so fast, I had no time to stop it. One second David was shouting, the next, Richard was standing over his prone figure, his hand curled into a fist so tight his knuckles were white. He towered over him, chest heaving; he was the very picture of a man protecting something, or someone he loved. “You never talk about her like that, again. You never talk about her, period. We’re leaving here today. I’m done with you fucking me over, dictating who I fall in love with and where. I’m done with you and Anderson Inc.”
“You’re going to regret this, Richard.” David spat, wiping the blood off his face.
“The only thing I regret is wasting as much time as I have giving you the best fucking campaigns this company ever produced. Good luck with your success record once I’m gone.”
He stepped back. “Sweetheart, get your things. We’re leaving. Now.”
I ran to my desk, grabbing my purse and coat. The few things I found in my desk earlier were already in Richard’s boxes. I had made sure there was nothing personal on my computer and my area was tidy. I knew Richard had wiped his hard drive, chuckling as he did something, muttering, “Good luck, fuckers,” then shut down the machine. I could only imagine what the IT department would discover.
He strode out of the office, ignoring David, who was screaming obscenities, threatening lawsuits and telling him he was ruined. He indicated the exit with his head, and I scurried to open the door, following him down the hall, David trailing us, still cursing and flinging insults. Other employees and executives were staring at the commotion. I kept my eyes focused on Richard’s back, certain he was strutting. He held his head high, shoulders straight, not at all embarrassed by the scene he had caused.
When we reached the elevator, he pushed the button and turned to the small crowd who were watching, not knowing what was going on, but loving the drama of it all.