Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“She’s not my ex.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, someone you slept with.”
“Our relationship has never been anything but professional. We went out but neither of us felt anything more than friendship for the other.”
“I’m sure.” I let out a breath, unsure if I’m even comfortable with the way I’m feeling right now, even if I don’t have any right to feel upset.
“Did Kathy tell you that I want to move you upstairs?”
“She did.” I ball up the napkin I’m still holding and toss it onto my sandwich, my appetite completely gone. “I told her that I don’t want to move.”
“I saw some of the work you’ve done, Dakota.”
“If I wanted a job in marketing, I would have applied for it.” I hold his stare, silently daring him to use the power he has to do whatever he wants despite me telling him not to move me.
With a sigh, he shakes his head. “If you change your mind, the job is yours.”
“Thanks.” I pick up my phone and check the time. It feels like I’ve been sitting here with him forever, but it’s only been about twenty minutes, which means I still have about thirty minutes before I have to get back to the office. Just as I’m about to stand and excuse myself, my phone rings in my hand and the watch on the table vibrates. When I see it’s Troy calling, I wonder what I did recently that I need to repent for. Unwilling to talk to him, I end the call by sending a message saying I’m busy and will call back.
“Who’s Troy?” Braxton asks, and I look at him.
“My ex-fiancé.” I don’t know if I tell him because I want him to realize he doesn’t know everything about me or if I just want to see his reaction. And he does react—his jaw instantly gets tight and he looks down at the watch between us like he wants to take it outside and run it over. Before he can do that, I pick it up. “Thanks for the watch.” I scoot away from the table to stand. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“We will definitely be seeing each other.” He stands and blocks me so I can’t get past him. “I’ll be at your place tonight.”
“I have plans tonight.”
“With your brother?” I’m not sure if it’s a question or if he’s letting me know he’s aware I have plans with Jamie. “Like I said, I’ll see you tonight.” He leans down, touching his lips to my cheek, and all I can do is stand there and soak in the feeling of his lips on me like a complete idiot.
Chapter 6
Dakota
SITTING ON THE floor in front of the coffee table, I pick up my glass of wine and take a sip. Since Jamie left an hour ago, I’ve been reviewing the notes Kathy left for me, and I’m finding it hard not to toss them into the trash. All of my hard work was for nothing. She didn’t like any of my ideas. She might as well just write me a script to follow for tomorrows show or tie strings to my hands and control me like a puppet. With a tired groan, I rub my eyes then frown when my front door beeps. I look up as it starts to open, and my adrenalin spikes as I watch someone step inside, their features blocked by the shadows. I attempt to scoot under the coffee table but can barely get my head underneath it, so I settle with lying as still as I can while holding my breath.
“Dakota, I can see you.”
Braxton.
I sit up quickly and curse myself when I accidentally bump my almost full glass of red wine, watching it tip over and fall on the white plush carpet. “Shit.” I jump up and rush to the kitchen, dropping the glass in the sink. I grab a small towel and wet the edge of it then go back to the rug and attempt to use it to blot the stain away, but it doesn’t work. If anything, I seem to be spreading it farther. “Great.” I glare at the man now standing over me. “This rug probably cost thousands of dollars, and now I have to replace it because of you.”
“It didn’t cost thousands of dollars.” His brow pulls together. “Or I don’t think it did.” He bends over and takes the rag from my hand. “And you don’t need to replace it. I’ll have the building manager take care of it.”
Right. I roll my eyes. How could I forget he owns this building, and IMG, and he just walked right into my home like he owns it—because he kind of does? “How did you get in here?”
“You wear glasses?” he asks, ignoring my question, and I push my blue light glasses up the bridge of my nose then touch my hair, which is piled on top of my head in a messy bun.