Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
He offered me the spliff. I shook my head. He shrugged. “Assholes make great lovers and shitty employers. Source: science.”
“I don’t think you know what science means.” I glared at him.
“Of course I do. It’s that thing with the test tubes and smoke bubbling out of them. Oh, don’t forget the funny goggles.”
He treated the entire thing like it was a joke.
“So you’re okay with this behavior?” I motioned to Gretchen, who was busy crying into her palms theatrically, producing zero tears and loads of drama.
“She’s my fuck buddy, not my mother.”
“Back to the topic!” Gretchen interjected, not seeming to be bothered by how she’d been openly labeled as an abuser by both of us. “How am I supposed to secure you a visa? The last thing I need is to meddle with the immigration office while I work for POTUS.”
“There are other ways to secure a visa.” I examined my fingernails, which were squarely trimmed and cream colored. I idly wondered if I’d lost my mind, with what I was about to propose. It was possible. Probable, even. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
“There are?” Gretchen eyed me warily.
“I could marry him.” I pointed at Riggs.
The man was so surprised he actually whipped his head around to see if there was another person behind him. He turned back to me, stubbing his bare chest. “You weren’t talking about me, were you?”
“Indeed I was. You’re American, aren’t you?”
He lit up his spliff, taking a long drag. “I’d like to think of myself as a citizen of the world.”
“Do you travel said world with a blue passport issued in the United States of America?” I arched an eyebrow.
His flat-lined expression said it all. “If you want to get all technical.”
“Good enough for me. So. When’s a good time for us to get married?” I asked, businesslike. I produced my phone from my purse and checked my calendar. “I have a mani-pedi tomorrow after work, and a facial on Saturday, but otherwise I’m free.”
Though I could probably cancel the facial if he needed me to be flexible. Teamwork was one of my fortes.
“Sorry, it might be the accent.” He fished his black tee from between the pillows of the couch, then slid it on. “But it sounded like you just dropped the m-bomb.”
“Marriage is not profanity.”
“No. It’s not.” Riggs slam-dunked his empty bottle into a bin across the room as he sucked on his rollie. “Marriage is worse than profanity. Profanity is fun, creative, humorous; take cum dumpster, for example. Great word, right?”
“You mean two words.” I wrinkled my nose. “Let’s hope you don’t pass your dazzling math skills to our children.” Now I was just being cheeky. Since sperm was mentioned, and all.
Riggs shuddered. “The c-word. You really are a sadistic creature, Poppins.”
Gretchen looked between us, growing desperate. “Riggs, please.”
He sneered. “You’re nuts if you think I’d ever entertain this, sweet cheeks.”
“It’s just a piece of paper. She could destroy my career!” Gretchen threw herself at him suddenly, like a damsel in distress. I stood there, having the distinct feeling tonight was stretching over approximately five months. Was Mercury in retrograde?
But Riggs gave no indication he was about to cave in, instead shaking her off his arm. “Find another career then. I’m sure there’s a small repressed country in need of a new authoritarian. I’m not marrying anyone, for any reason, at any time.”
“You owe me!” Her palms collided with his chest, and she seemed more mental than ever. “Please. This can’t be the end of my career. You know there’s no going back from a sex scandal for a woman in politics.”
She slid down his body, begging him on her knees now.
He stared her down, his jaw square, his eyes dead. What was it that revolted him more, I wondered—the fact that she’d begged him to sacrifice his freedom for her, or the prospect of marrying me?
I knew I wasn’t the sort of woman men like Riggs went for. While I was perfectly decent looking, I wasn’t as in-your-face sexy as Gretchen, who, at forty, looked like a Hollywood bombshell, with curves for miles, luscious blonde hair, and a pout that had seen more syringes than a drug addict. I’d taken the Kate Middleton route. With fresh brunette locks, conservative dresses, and a willowy frame without much to grab. Le sigh. If only anxiety and insecurities were grab-able.
Riggs clasped her chin, tilting her face up.
“This is not the kind of begging I’m into, and my mind won’t change.” His voice was soft but final. “Now get up and dust off.”
“Bloody hell!” It was my turn to lose my temper. “I was just joking about the children part. I’d rather remove my own teeth with a pair of tweezers than have you contaminating my DNA pool. Give it up, mate.”
“Sorry, Poppins, I don’t do monogamy.” He finished the last of his spliff.