Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I’ve come for you. I’ve been waiting out here like a twat for nearly an hour.”
I tip my head. “Oh, woe is me. My heart bleeds for you.”
“Love is Life, and Life is Gone just went viral. Two mega hits now.”
I remember that song. I’ve heard him sing it about eight thousand times.
I can’t hold back the sarcasm. “Well done, you. I’d give you a round of applause, but I’m kinda busy right now.”
I know he’s raising his eyebrows, even through his mirrored lenses.
“When did this happen to you? He made you like this, didn’t he? Josh, the arrogant tosser.”
“Josh? The arrogant tosser?! That’s rich. And what do you mean when did this happen to me?”
Connor puts his hands in his pockets, slouching like Mr Cool. He hasn’t even bothered with a token bouquet this time.
“Your attitude. You’re getting really trappy.”
“My confidence, you mean. And let me think about it.” I fake ponder. “Oh yeah, I got that when you finally fucked off and I found some. Nice job with Carly, by the way. Double whammy of being a cunt.” I pause. “How do you know I even live here?”
“I found your address from Carly’s phone, before we broke up.”
“Sneaky bastard. You can add stalker to your repertoire.” I turn towards the door. “Leave me alone, Connor. I mean it.”
“Talking about phones,” he says. “You might want to reconsider, since I’ve got my finger on the call button.”
I hate the spite in his voice. Cocky shit.
“What call button?”
He holds up his phone screen to show me, and there it is, spelled out for me.
TED.
My fucking dad.
I drop my shopping bags, rushing towards him on a mission.
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
His swagger comes back, his smirk making me grit my teeth, I’m that raging. He holds his phone above his head, taunting me.
“Ah, yeah, confidence,” he says. “You must be so confident at being a hooker. You’ve clearly told your mum and dad all about your new job. I bet they can’t wait to meet your male hooker boyfriend either. That’s not confidence, Ella. That’s shame.”
“Think what you like, twat. It’s none of your business.”
I despise the twist in my guts. I’m not going to admit to the prick that I’m planning on telling them anyway. He doesn’t deserve even a snippet of my justification.
“What next, then?” I ask him. “What do you want?”
“I want to come in. You can show me your posh new pad. I’m getting a better one, actually. In Mayfair.”
“Go you. Whoopty doo.”
I stare him out, his thumb still hovering over the call button. Cunt.
I’ve got one hell of a load of venom towards Connor already, but this cuts a whole new league. I have gritted teeth as I key in the door code and grab my shopping from the floor. He’s still brandishing his phone like a weapon when he follows me in. I consider wrestling it off him when we’re in the elevator together, out of signal, but what would be the point? He’s got plenty of others at his disposal, and I know it.
I stomp along to the front door, making sure the door slams back in his face as he crosses the threshold. Then the wanker takes his sunglasses off and does a whistle as he spins.
“Nice. Didn’t expect you’d like neon green, though. Guess that’s your hooker boyfriend’s influence. Like everything else.”
I put my shopping on the kitchen counter. “Just spit it out. What’s the next stage of your negotiations?”
I have to play strategy here. Mum and Dad’s plane touches down in just over a week’s time. I have to keep Connor at bay for eight days before I can face the music and reveal the truth myself.
“I’ll offer you more money than you earn as a hooker,” Connor tells me. “I can do that now.”
I scoff. “I doubt it.”
He props himself on an elbow right next to me, his phone still in his hand.
“How much do you earn?”
I meet his eyes. “My last proposal put almost a hundred grand in my bank account, if you must know.”
I expect him to raise his brows in shock at least, but no, nothing.
“We both know I’m gonna hit it big time, so if you want to play big money, Ells, that’s fine. I can handle it.”
I look at the guy I was in love with, in his stupid baseball cap. The thought of touching him makes my skin crawl, and having him in this place. In my home.
“I don’t want you to handle it. I want you to fuck off.”
He sighs at me, like this really is some kind of negotiation.
“Give me a chance, then. Just a tiny one. I’ll match your pay for one night.”
I stare at him. “You want to use me as a hooker?”