Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
That it hasn’t been since she chose her parasite of a sibling over me.
My fingers clamp themselves together in my lap to cease the fidgeting. “Miss Pierson.”
“Am I dressed to your liking for this meeting, sir?”
She slides a hand onto her hip, adjusting the boyfriend blazer that’s covering her top. Seeing her nipples harden under my stare instantly convinces my cock to swell, forcing my clenched grip to adjust itself to rest on top of it.
As much as I want to yank that top down and use the ends of her strands to tease the stiffened points, I resist the instinct.
Swallow the bitter truth.
She’s not mine for the taking.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
“Mr. Whittington is fine,” I begrudgingly correct.
It’s impossible not to see the pain in her gaze, but I pretend not to notice.
That it doesn’t hurt.
That I’m not hurting being this close to her.
“My schedule said I had a meeting about contract negotiations.” A hand is motioned at the empty chair across from me. “What are you here to negotiate, Miss Pierson?” She settles in the seat while I continue to inquire. “Were the additional amendments not to your liking? Is this about the duration of your mother’s care? I can assure you I spoke with your mother’s team regarding her progress and assessed the continuation of their services accordingly.”
“No.”
“Have you come to negotiate the amount that I agreed to keep in your account for your remaining classes? Do you believe this is not enough? I had a financial advisor assess the educational situation prior to deciding. It’s more than adequate.”
“No.”
“Surely you’re not seeking an additional allowance for personal use.” The twitched glare can’t be stopped. “I would’ve been more inclined to include such a stipulation if it weren’t for the damage that was done to the penthouse because you let an uninvited guest into our home.” Longing springs into her gaze prompting me to correct. “My home.”
She swallows her sadness, stiffens her spine – an act that still gets me rock hard – , and shakes head slowly. “I am not here for more money, Elias.”
“Mr. Whittington.”
It’s her turn to narrow her gaze. “Mr. Whittington.”
“Then what is there to negotiate?”
“The signing of the paperwork.”
Bewilderment blooms in my expression. “Excuse me?”
“I didn’t sign it yesterday.”
Why am I not surprised Dietrich failed to mention that little detail during his other reporting, in which he made sure to include that she looked like she hadn’t been eating, sleeping, or washing her hair properly? The offhandedness of the information indicated he knew I wanted to know but refused to ask, and his decision not to include this little ambush further demonstrates how well he anticipates my needs beyond his paycheck duty.
I wish he wouldn’t.
I am thankful he does.
Perhaps he deserves two weeks on one of our new catamarans.
“The deal I have for you is quite simple,” Zel begins, removing the folder containing the documents from her bag. “Listen to what I have to say, and I’ll immediately sign it.” The object is placed gently on the glass surface. “Don’t listen to what I have to say, and I’ll sign it.” Her fingers place a pen on one side of the object before diving back into her yellow accessory. “But only after I’ve cut off every inch of my hair, here, in your office.”
“Idle threats do not make for great negotiation tactics, Miss Pierson.”
“I. Know,” a pair of sharp scissors is placed on the opposite side of the pen at the same time her stare drills into mine, “Mr. Whittington.”
An unexpected jolt gets my heart racing.
She would never cut her hair.
Zel’s stoic stance causes me to shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Or would she?
Not willing to take the risk and ruin something I know she loves – that I love even if I can’t touch it anymore – I clear my throat and gesture my hand towards her. “Proceed.”
Her shoulders immediately sag as she practically whispers, “I miss you, Elias.”
Shoving away the instinct to echo the sentiment requires me to summon strength I didn’t know I possessed.
“And I love you. I’m…in love with you. And I’m going to sign this contract because I don’t want to be your doll.” Two fingers tangle themselves into her locks to provide the comfort I can’t. “I want to be your girlfriend. Your real girlfriend. I want us to keep having dinners and going to snooty rich people parties. I want us to have brunches. I want you to ask me about school because you really give a shit and not because you’re just being polite. I want you to wash me and brush my hair and punish me with it when I’ve forgotten my manners in mixed company, or you think I was flirty with the delivery boy.”
She might not have been, but he was.
It got him fired.
He’s lucky it didn’t get him a broken rib.