Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
My head lifts when I hear the soft footsteps, watching to see if she’s doing as I stated and leaves or has some grand idea to stay. I’m unprepared for the sight before my eyes. The woman with no name has her eyes downward, attempting to turn around, but her ankles turn in an awkward angle, arm going out to catch her fall. My seat is shoved out from underneath me as I try to reach her before she hits the floor. Ten or so steps, that’s how close she is, yet so fucking far away. There’s no way I’m going to get there in time, not with the way her heel is snagging on the stupid fucking area rug the decorator insisted on using on top of the gleaming hardwood floors. Damn tassels that after having one conversation, it was easier to let it go than deal with talking to the bossy lady.
“Oh shit,” I hear murmured in a whisper just as she hits the corner of the bookcase. My own hands reach out to grasp her around the waist, but I’m too far away. And let me tell you, watching someone falling, unable to brace their own fall, head cracking against wood, unknowing what the outcome is going to be, is absolutely not how I envisioned spending my Saturday night. Truth be told, I’d rather be at the Christmas charity event than having to deal with what I’m sure is going to be an incident report, calling an ambulance, and hoping like hell we don’t get sued.
“I should have stayed home today, gone on vacation, done anything besides step foot in my own office,” I say as I make my way towards the woman. I don’t know this woman, know where she came from, or how to handle this situation when I’m the man in charge and can handle anything that goes my way, but an escort that screams naive is not one of them.
I go down to my knees. She’s lying on her stomach, ankle swollen to double its size from the twist of her fall, leg shifted in a position that reveals her upper thigh and laced-covered cheeks of her ass. I’ll give Alejandro one thing: the woman is a fucking knockout. She’s skin that’s untouchable in her state, and if she came from any other place, I’d be much more amenable than where I’m at now. This has got to be one of my brother’s worst ideas, involving an escort only for her to become injured.
“Miss, can you hear me?” I ask as I crouch down. If she’s got a head injury, that’s a whole other issue. The good news is, from this angle, I at least can tell there’s no blood. Thank God for small favors. Though there are other worries, like a concussion, a bleed inside her brain, and not to mention there could be a broken ankle as well.
“Mhhhm,” a strangled murmur comes from her chest, yet she doesn’t move.
“Fuck.” I reach for my phone that’s always in my pocket but a, not feeling its presence, hating like hell I’m going to have to leave this damsel in distress when I have no idea about her the injuries or who she is. “I’m going to strangle Alejandro.” I stand up and hurry to my desk, snatching the desk phone so it’s on the edge and keeping my eye on the woman while I punch the numbers to my brother’s phone.
“Mi hermano, I’m pretty sure you should be busy with the pretty lady instead of calling me,” Alejandro answers the phone. I can hear the holiday music in the background because, of course, with me not there, someone from the Martinez family had to attend. Our parents couldn’t make it, having their thing to attend for our father’s company.
“Dumb fuck, she fell in my office. I have no idea who the hell she is. I have an unknown woman on my hands who’s practically unconscious, and before I call an ambulance, I need to know who she is, where she’s from, so at least I can prepare for a damn scandal and have our PR firm on dial.”
“All I know is she’s hired by Rachel. I got the number from a friend of a friend. Her name is Cadence, and you know the rest. Take her home, wake her up, and fuck her brains out,” Alejandro responds, giving me more information than he did before at least.
“You do realize the next time I see you, you’ll need a plastic surgeon because your nose will be the least of your fucking worries.” I slam the phone down on the receiver, staring at the woman who I now know is named Cadence, watching as she flips over to her back, a groan rumbling in the back of her throat. I take a deep breath as my eyes move from the woman to the phone on my table, seeing that it’s crushed under the weight of my hand. Another one bites the dust. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I need to make sure Cadence is okay, figure out what to do and how to do it.