Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
As far as he could remember, Tyler had only been introduced to the billionaire once. He was one of thousands of reporters introduced to the other man, and yet Leandro knew his full name. Tyler wondered nervously if it meant he had committed some kind of faux pas unknowingly. Although he was far from being an expert when it came to Greek society, what little he knew told him that a Christopoulos’ word here was law.
When he realized that everyone was staring at him and Leandro Christopoulos was waiting for him to speak, Tyler stammered, “M-my c-condolences, sir.”
The Greek billionaire only nodded and asked mildly, “Do you have a question? You were the first one to reach me, and so it is only fair that I allow you to start the interview.”
Tyler gulped. God, he felt like he was being eyed by a shark. An extremely powerful shark, one who could snap him into pieces if he wanted to. Tyler had to remind himself several times that he was in his mid-thirties and was thus a decade older than the Greek billionaire. He was the mature one here, he told himself firmly. Maturity and experience always counted. He shouldn’t be intimidated by this boy.
But when he looked back at the “boy”, Tyler’s courage fled.
Leandro Christopoulos might have been a boy once – might have been a carefree daredevil playboy in the past, but he had changed now.
Maybe it was the loss of his father. The passing of time. Maybe it was even the alleged loss of his first love Bobby Granger. It could be anything, but one thing was very clear – Leandro Christopoulos was not the same man he had been a year ago.
“Your question, Mr. Jenkins?” Leandro asked.
The tone was threaded with the slightest hint of impatience, making Tyler even more nervous. He blurted out unthinkingly, “Wh-what do you think of Sabastian Gabris?”
The crowd of reporters behind him collectively drew their breaths at the same time Tyler did. He wanted to bang his head on the wall. Oh God, now he was in for it, Tyler thought fearfully. Why the hell had he asked that of all things? Everyone knew—-
“Sabastian Gabris?”
Tyler slowly peeked at Leandro’s face and almost gaped at the other man’s look of puzzlement. Oh dear Lord – did that mean everyone but Leandro Christopoulos knew about Sabastian Gabris?
“We have been rivals in the past,” Leandro said. “But I don’t see what he has to do with me now.”
Before Tyler could figure out how to answer that, another reporter was already handing Leandro an iPad. Tyler caught a glimpse of what was on the screen and gulped at the headlines.
SABASTIAN GABRIS AND BOBBY GRANGER – SECRETLY DATING?
Someone yelped in the crowd.
It was the owner of the iPad and when Tyler looked back at Leandro, he realized with a wince that the billionaire’s grip had been so strong he had left a very visible dent on the screen.
Leandro Christopoulos slowly forced his fingers to loosen its grip on the iPad and handed it back to its unfortunate owner. “You will be compensated for that,” he heard himself murmuring before swiftly turning around and heading to the side doors of the church.
The crowd of reporters protested loudly, shouting questions and complaining about him not keeping his word.
The noise they made was deafening, but Leandro didn’t really hear a word of what they were saying. All he was aware of right now was Bobby. His Bobby. His Bobby, caught on camera in the arms of another man.
His chest felt like it was caving in at the tortuous pain the image evoked.
No. Fuck no. It couldn’t fucking be true.
Chapter One
Inhale, exhale.
“You can do this,” Roberta “Bobby” Granger muttered as she gave her reflection a Mean Look in the mirror. People who worked for her always told Bobby her Mean Looks were very effective, that they were so scary it forced everyone to do what she wanted. Hopefully, her Mean Look would also work on her stubborn heart.
The sudden loud banging on the door made Bobby jump. “Jeez, Bobby, are you doing Number 2 or what?”
No. She was not doing Number 2. What she was doing was Number Zero, which meant she was this close to drowning herself in the toilet bowl until she choked and died. That was a lot better than what – who – waited for her outside.
“Bobby!”
She took another deep breath. “You can do this, Bobby. You’re a strong woman. You can’t be affected. You don’t love him anymore.” And today was the most important day to prove it.
F looked at her oddly as she emerged from the powder room. “Are you okay?”
F wasn’t his real name, but it was how her boss wanted to be called. According to society gossip, F stood for three things: French, Fashion, and “Fuck You”, which the sixty-something self-made millionaire liked to say to every lazy-ass individual he happened to meet.