Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
…while my mother is notorious for being conned by rich handsome crooks.
I know things like ‘heartbreak’ and ‘poor’ taste in men aren’t supposed to be hereditary, but the moment my wickedly dangerous boss says he’s attracted to a shy nerd like me—
We all know how this is going to end, don’t we?
Note: Previously published as Acheron’s Woman
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Playlist
We & Us by Moira dela Torre
Best Part by Daniel Caesar
Somewhere in Time
We Find Love by Thunk A Pella
Ms. Pippilotta Jones' Life Hack Guide
for the Socially Inept
If you find yourself in a situation where you're absolutely required to make small talk, listed below are the types of people you might encounter.
1. Babies. You can coo them to death, and it wouldn't matter. Save yourself from social grief by volunteering to be their nanny for the day.
2. Old people. You don't even have to talk. All you have to do is listen. Stick to them like glue if you can.
3. People who are full of themselves. This type is easy to spot, and they'd be happier if you don't speak at all. Their talk might occasionally bore you to tears, but it's better than having to speak at all.
4. People with marriage or travel plans. Ask about their plans, and say no more. They'll be more than happy to take up the slack.
5. Same age, same gender. A self-deprecating approach to conversation is always ideal as this effectively establishes your lack of interest in competing with them.
6. Same age, opposite sex. Underscoring your lack of viability ensures that they do not waste time drawing you out of your shell.
P.S. Above all else, avoid speaking to wildcards, i.e. smoldering hot Greek billionaires who think your silence is a challenge to their masculinity. If you spot this type, run away - as fast as you can, and never look back!
As the Filipino (viral) meme goes, "Kapag tumingin ka, akin ka."
Prologue
NINETEEN YEARS AGO
Every gang had its own hierarchy, and in this dark and grimy corner of Athens, new recruits were fair game. Pests or pets, that was how they were called, and always, it could only be one or the other. Pests got beaten up every minute, and they were the lucky ones. They only needed to survive a thrashing until they toughened up enough to fight back.
Pets, however...
It was the faintest sound, a door carefully and stealthily being opened, but it was more than enough. The seventeen-year-old boy lying on the floor was awake in an instant, but even so his body remained motionless and his eyes closed, the pace of his breathing slow and deep.
Go away. Please go away. Please.
Even though the boy already knew it was hopeless to pray, he did so anyway in a desperate bid to stave off the inevitable.
Another sound penetrated the darkness, so much louder now, as if it were a blatant challenge for the boy to face his fears. His fingers tightened under the pillow, curling around the knife handle even as the sound made him sick with fear.
The boy knew he was too much of a survivalist to fight to the death if he found himself outnumbered, but he also knew it was not in him to submit passively. He could never be the type—-
And then it happened.
Too fast. Too sudden. Or perhaps it was just too terrifying that even though all the signs were there, the boy had made himself blind and deaf to all of them.
The knife was torn from his grasp as countless hands flipped him to his back. He tried to struggle. He tried to scream. But reality was as he had long feared, and there were just too damn many of them. In mere moments, the room reeked of the most depraved desires. It was all there - in the way they looked at him, the way they laughed as they tore the clothes off his body.
Tears burned against his eyelids, and he knew that the moment to choose had come.
Submit or fight.
Live or die.
He opened his eyes as he felt callous fingers part the cheeks of his ass.
THEO, SAVE ME!
And that was when she came.
One
"THESE PAPERS NEED TO be with Mr. Simonides A.S.A.P."
"I'll get someone from the mailroom—-"
Pippi's boss glanced up with a frown. "No, you won't." Mr. Collins' voice held an unusual note of reproach. "These papers are for our CEO, Ms. Jones. Do you truly think it's a good idea to entrust such important paperwork to one of our messengers?"
No, she did not, Pippi thought. But what was not a good idea either was having her come into proximity with any rich man, which she considered herself allergic to. And it did not help at all, she pondered gloomily to herself, that Acheron Simonides was a lot richer than probably ninety-nine percent of the global population.
But an order was an order, and after apologizing for her (deliberate) lapse of judgment, she took the thick folder from her boss' desk and excused herself from the room.
Pippi kept her head down as she made her way to the elevators, a gesture that was frequently misconstrued by her colleagues at work. Half of them thought it was a sign of aloofness. The other half believed it was only because Pippi was a workaholic.