Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
The old me would’ve cringed, feeling horribly out of place, but not this new Emma with the hipster-cool dress-and-booties combo and nice hair. I’m still nowhere near as glossy as most of the women here, but as our gorgeous blond hostess leads us through the restaurant after taking our coats, I hold my head up high, like I’m exactly where I belong.
And with Marcus at my side, the bluff totally works. Several women—and the male model—eye me enviously, no doubt wondering who I am and how I snagged the tall, handsome billionaire whose palm is resting possessively on my lower back and who’s glaring at every man who dares glance my way.
“Ems!” Kendall jumps to her feet as we approach the table, her hazel eyes widening as she takes in my appearance. “Wow, look at your dress! And your hair! What did you do and when?”
Now that’s two X chromosomes for you. “Got a haircut at a new place yesterday and did a little shopping,” I say, beaming. “You like?”
“I love it!” She hugs me, then turns to Marcus, who’s watching us in bemusement. “Doesn’t she look absolutely stunning?”
His gaze travels over me, lingering on my lips. “Yes. Always.”
I blush. I can’t help it. His voice has that husky note in it that makes it all deep and rumbly, and I know if we weren’t in public right now, he’d be pulling me to him for a kiss that would inevitably lead to more. Also, the carnal gleam in his eyes is not restaurant appropriate. At all.
Kendall must think so too, because she clears her throat and sticks out her hand at Marcus. “Kendall Bryce,” she says a shade too brightly. “I don’t think we’ve ever formally introduced ourselves.”
Marcus tears his eyes away from me and shakes her hand. “Marcus Carelli.” His tone is wry; he must’ve realized he was eyeing me like I’m what’s on the menu. “It’s nice to formally meet you, Kendall.”
“Marcus’s friend, Ashton, is joining us for lunch,” I tell her as we all take our seats and the waiter brings a pitcher of water for the table. “I told Marcus you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course not. The more, the merrier.” She waits until Marcus looks down at the menu, and as soon as he does, she pantomimes swooning.
I smother a laugh before stealing a glance at my companion. Yep, definitely swoon-worthy. Even among all the glitterati, he stands out as the most attractive man in the place, his strong features and powerful build drawing the eye of many women here—and quite a few men. And who can blame them? Even in his casual weekend outfit of dark jeans and a light blue button-up shirt, Marcus looks like a million bucks—or rather, a billion. Or is it several billion?
I have no idea what his net worth actually is.
“So, Marcus,” Kendall says when he looks up from the menu. “Emma told me the two of you are doing a trial run of living together. How is that going so far? Are you surviving the feline invasion?”
His white teeth flash in a grin. “For the most part. I did wake up the other morning with a furry butt on my face, but Emma assured me that the cats clean themselves thoroughly—and that Mr. Puffs didn’t sneak into the bedroom and try to smother me on purpose.”
“Oh, no.” Kendall laughs. “I’d be careful if I were you. The things I’ve heard about that cat…”
“All true,” Marcus assures her. “He may indeed be of demonic origin. Luckily, his siblings are quite harmless, and I largely get along with them.”
“He’s being modest,” I say, laying a hand on his sleeve. “Cottonball has fallen head over heels in love with him. He follows Marcus around like a puppy.”
Before Kendall can reply, the waiter comes around to take our drink orders—just the water on the table for me and a hibiscus iced tea for Kendall and Marcus—and by the time he leaves, Ashton comes up to our table, looking movie-star handsome in another casually cool combo of jeans and a light-colored cashmere sweater.
“Great call on the place,” he says to Marcus as he takes a seat next to Kendall. “I’ve been meaning to try it, but you beat me to it.” With a megawatt smile, he turns to my friend. “Ashton Vancroft,” he says, his smooth, deep voice dropping another octave as he extends his hand. “And you are?”
To my surprise, instead of looking dazzled, my friend is outright glaring at him. “Kendall Bryce,” she says through gritted teeth, ignoring the proffered hand. When he lowers it, she flips her sleek dark hair over her shoulder and pointedly angles her chair so she’s facing partially away from him.
I gape at her in disbelief. I’ve never seen Kendall be so rude to anyone, not even that time in college when a drunk guy kept hitting on her throughout the entire party. What’s even stranger is that instead of taking offense, Ashton looks entertained, his smile widening to a wicked grin as he leans back in his chair and crosses his ankle over his knee in the ultimate man-at-ease pose. “So,” he drawls, as if Kendall isn’t a block of ice at his side, “what’s good here?”