Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I shrug. “I don’t know. Want to pick something for me? I only brought two dresses, so don’t be disappointed at the lack of options.”
“That’s okay. I brought backups you can use if you need them.”
Of course, you did.
Ella disappears into the cavernous walk-in closet just off the bathroom. She shouts a few things, but none are clear enough to discern, so I ignore her. Instead, I grab a towel and climb out of the water.
Her words echo through my head. “It’s okay just to have a good time with someone.”
That sounds amazing.
“I want to do something big for my birthday. Something fun. Something wild that I’ll remember forever.”
I smile, pulling my towel tighter.
“This one,” Ella says, holding up the silver dress and heels. “You don’t even have to try it on. I know this will be fire on you, and it’s perfect for your birthday.”
The image of my silver heels dangling from Renn’s fingers flashes through my mind. “These are fucking hot.”
I grin, taking them from her. It’s kismet. “This is it, then. Thank you.”
She scoops up her dresses, blows me a kiss, and closes the door softly behind her.
“There is a difference between flings, feelings, and forever.”
I set the heels down and finish drying myself.
Ella’s words percolate through my brain. She’s right—there is a difference between a good time, loving someone, and committing to another person forever. And if I’m going to start looking for a forever candidate, I better get all the good time out of my system while I can.
I drop my towel next to the sink and look at myself in the mirror. A flush of excitement pinks my cheeks and has the golds popping out in my irises.
“Could I just have a good time with Renn as a one-time thing? Something explosive, and then … we’re done? Everything would be fine?”
I stare at my reflection in the foggy glass.
“Stop overthinking this and get dressed,” I say, heading into the closet for my lingerie. “I have a birthday to celebrate.”
CHAPTER 6
Renn
I adjust my collar in the mirror.
“Did they send black or charcoal?” Astrid, my personal assistant, asks. “I put an emphasis on black, but the salesgirl was distracted the entire phone call. I have a note to call the manager on Monday morning.”
“Over clothes?”
“Technically, over customer service. Wouldn’t you want someone to tell you if I treated them like crap?”
I step back and check out my handiwork. Not bad. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Yeah, maybe. I hope they’d consider that you might just be having a bad day.”
I hear Brock yell at Blakely to see if she’s ready, and then her faint giggle in reply. The sound is bright and happy. Just like her. Dammit.
“I mean, we all get distracted sometimes,” I say, sighing.
Astrid rambles on about what good customer service means and its importance to business. I get it. I like good service as much as anyone. But sometimes Astrid gets too by the book, and I have to remind her that real human beings are involved.
She doesn’t have this problem with my younger sister, Bianca.
Bianca and I mostly share a personal assistant because I feel pretentious for having one and don’t give her enough to do. She worked for me virtually while I was overseas, but now helps me in person. Is it nice having someone available to coordinate the landscape crew, return calls I don’t want to deal with … and send dinner clothes to me when I jump on a plane from Miami to Vegas for a birthday weekend? Absolutely. Is it necessary? Nope.
On the other hand, my sister is much better at doling out tasks. She has no qualms about having Astrid take over her personal life while she sits at Dad’s right hand and helps run the family businesses. And I get it—Bianca is probably busier than I am. Smarter than I am. More successful than I am. But I still think she could do some shit herself.
“Did she even send a black outfit?” Astrid asks.
I step away from the mirror and find my cologne. “Yes. Even my underwear is black.”
“That’s more info than I need.”
I chuckle. “How much did you tip the salesgirl?”
“Enough.”
“Astrid …” I say, teasing her.
“For fuck’s sake, Renn.”
She laughs. “Don’t forget that you have a charity game at the end of the month. You got a packet in the mail today about it, reminding you to share it on your social media and giving you the details about the charities it supports. I added it to your calendar since you verbally agreed and didn’t give me details.”
“Hey, look on the bright side. I told you about it, at least.”
“That would be a bright side if you had. Except you didn’t.”
Fuck. I put her on speakerphone and apply a few squirts of cologne. “I’m sorry. Gabe Henderson called me a few months ago and said he was trying to start this foundation and blah, blah, blah. What was I supposed to do?”