Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
In the next instant, I dismissed the idea. From what I’d seen, Dominic wasn’t the type to be gentle with anyone. He ran his company with an iron fist. The other junior associates whispered about him like he was the devil. I’d gone to lunch with a few of them and heard all about it.
“I’ve been here three months and I’ve never seen him smile,” one swore.
“He can scowl at me any time though,” another said with a flashing grin.
I’d laughed even as I felt the truth of her words in my bones. Dominic wasn’t a congenial man, but he was diabolically handsome, winter cold, and that was a compelling combination.
“Hello?” Christi snapped her fingers in front of my eyes, and I jolted back.
“What was that for?” I asked, batting her hand away.
“I asked you twice if you were ready to get out, and you just kept staring at–” Christi frowned out the windshield, “--that shrub, I think.”
There was a large shrub that would hold a good amount of Christmas lights, but until she pointed it out, I hadn’t even seen it.
“Sorry, I zoned out. I’m tired.”
Christi easily accepted that excuse. She’d seen how hard I was working. I’d nearly missed her first prenatal appointment because I’d had to work late with Albert, and then I’d rushed from the doctor’s office to meet Mrs. Kloss. We got out of the car, and Christi nervously smoothed down her velvet dress. It was the longest one she owned, hitting mid-thigh, and she’d worn dark tights and heels with it instead of her usual bare legs and beat-up sneakers.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Young, was my first thought. Young, even though she was wearing heels and her hair was pulled back in a stylish chignon she’d spent an hour perfecting. But hearing that would only irritate her, so I said, “You look beautiful. Let’s go.”
Mrs. Kloss didn’t let Christi stay nervous for long. She took one look at her and, as if she knew Christi needed it, began fawning over her. She loved her name, she loved her dress, she wanted to hear all about the baby.
“You know, it was normal to be pregnant by twenty-one when I was a young woman,” she said. “My sister was pregnant with her third by the time she was twenty-three.”
“It was also normal to be married and living in your own house,” Christi said wryly, but she glowed under Mrs. Kloss’s attention. In turn, she praised the house exuberantly, telling Mrs. Kloss everything she’d read about it. Mrs. Kloss acted like most of it was news to her, and I couldn’t tell if it genuinely was or not. Either way, we got a tour of nearly every square inch, except the second basement and the master suite.
I was exhausted by the time we finally made it back to the smaller eating area off the kitchen where the cook had laid out a dinner spread that rivaled any Thanksgiving I’d ever had. I ate hungrily while Mrs. Kloss and Christi continued talking like they’d known each other forever. Then, sensing they didn’t need me, I wandered back into the formal dining room that was adjacent to the great room, that looked out on a massive stone patio. All of it would be the event space. I pulled out a notebook and began jotting down my ideas. We’d need at least two bars. We could set up a big one here in the dining room and then another outside. We’d need a tent outside–December in LA was warmer than most places, but it wasn’t that warm. We’d have a band playing at one end of the room, a fire roaring in the giant, man-sized hearth on the other end. A dance floor over here. Seating areas over there.
I wrote furiously, picturing it all so clearly. It was definitely smaller than the ballroom, but in a good way. It was intimate. And decorated within an inch of its life, it was going to be magical. My heart tugged, thinking how beautiful it would be. Maybe I would tell Mrs. Kloss that I would work the event to make sure it all went off without a hitch. I knew she had an official coordinator to do that job, but it would be so nice to see the space filled with beautifully dressed people, the band playing, the fire roaring, the champagne flowing.
Unbidden, an image of Dominic in a tuxedo flashed in my mind. His image had the same reluctant, half-smile he wore in the picture with his sister, but in my head, she was nowhere to be seen. It was just him, standing in front of the fireplace, martini glass in hand, looking at me.
With a sigh, I put the idea and the image aside. I couldn’t work Christmas Eve and leave Christi alone. And there was no point in imagining Dominic smiling at me for any reason, in any context.