Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
The man who took our order brings out a tray of food, temporarily interrupting our tense lunch. I pass out our food to each of us before handing the tray back to the guy. Once he’s gone, I ignore Perry to focus on my gyro. It’s so good. Glancing over at Tate, he’s grinning around a bite of his. This was one of our favorite places to go. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.
“That should do it,” Perry says, pocketing his phone.
“What?”
Perry shrugs and pokes at his gyro. “What is this?”
“It’s not caviar or whatever Caroline fed to you as a baby. It’s a gyro. So good. Eat it and you’ll thank me.”
My phone buzzes from inside my purse that’s sitting on my lap. Perry’s grin is wolfish.
“Answer it,” he encourages.
Great.
I take a huge bite of my gyro before setting the messy thing down in order to clean off my hands and fish out my phone. It’s a text from Winston.
Win: Get up and walk out the door right now in exchange for dinner at the whore apartment with the noisy-ass bird.
Me: Jealous?
Win: Of the picture of you and the precious little boy you were making googly eyes at as you deep throated whatever the fuck you were eating? No.
Me: Fine, but Tate is gay. Just so you know.
Win: Tell your gay fuck buddy you’re leaving. Now, Cinderelliott.
I tap out at least seventeen middle-finger emojis before I hit send. Then, I type out my actual reply.
Me: See you tonight. Bring your coupon book. We still need to use the movie night coupon.
Win: I burned the coupon book. Besides…your apartment didn’t come with a television.
Me: Liar. I bet you carry the coupon book in your pocket. (And who needs a TV when you have a laptop?) I’ll leave as soon as I finish my meal. Not negotiating that no matter how much I want you in my lair because this gyro tastes better than you do. Sorry not sorry.
Win: Five minutes, little girl. Wolf it down like you wolf down my dick.
Me: Deal. See you soon, boyfriend.
Win: We’re nothing. Just a transaction.
Me: Hmm…
Win: Four minutes. I’m done talking to your bratty ass.
I send him a few more texts to try and goad him but he’s clearly done with playing because he doesn’t bite. Quickly, I devour my gyro in less than two minutes and spend the next two jabbering to Tate, ignoring every sneer or scoff Perry throws my way.
Win would be so proud of his little brother.
When the time is up, I give Tate a hug, promise to keep in touch, and then help Perry chase down his stupid orange monster car. For starting the day off with a sex scandal with a billionaire, it’s turned out to be a pretty great one. I’m hoping tonight I can convince Winston I’m sorry for keeping Leo’s blackmail and threats from him so the two of us can go back to being Ash and Win.
Filthy freaks who are more than a transaction.
So much more.
He’ll see. I’ll make sure of it.
CHAPTER NINE
Winston
I’m losing the battle and I blame Perry.
That picture he sent me pissed me off. I’d told Ash I didn’t care who she had lunch with but I’m a liar. Seeing her looking so carefree and happy with that child sent me over the edge. So much for keeping my cool when it comes to her.
Which is why, after a long-ass day dealing with attorneys and Mother and the vulture horde of reporters, I’m standing outside the whore apartment.
Nervous.
No, annoyed.
Whatever it is, it makes me tense as fuck.
I rap on the door with my knuckles. Even the sound of that is impatient and irritated. As though just three knocks gives Ash a preview of my mood. Spoiler alert: It’s not good.
She opens the door seconds later, a bright smile on her face. I sweep my stare over her body, disappointed she’s no longer wearing the sexy-ass dress she had on earlier. My annoyance fades as I appreciate her new outfit. Cutoff denim shorts and an off-the-shoulder, thin, mauve-colored shirt that shows a black bra underneath. She’s barefoot, her cute toes painted an orangy-red.
“Hey,” she greets. “Come in. Dinner’s almost ready.”
She turns on her heel giving me a perfect view of her tight, round ass that hangs out of her shorts. I’m not sure if her intention was to drive me crazy with a cheap pair of shorts or if it was purely innocent. Something tells me it’s the former. The girl has been playing an A-game way out of her league and whipping my ass while she’s at it. I’d be proud if it didn’t piss me off so bad.
I shut the apartment door behind me and lock it. A flash of pink divebombs me, screeching angrily. Shrimp lands on my shoulder, chirping all sorts of bitchy birdie nonsense in my ear.