Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
But he wasn’t that guy. He didn’t fool himself about anything.
It came as a surprise, but he couldn’t deny after being in her presence the last couple of days, he wanted her.
That was about her white-blonde hair and ice blue eyes. It was about her flawless skin. Her ample ass and tits.
It was about the fact he’d tower over her if she wasn’t in heels.
She couldn’t be more than five foot five. Hale got off on domination in any form, at least sexually, and that was definitely part of it. If they were in a relationship, he’d have that kick every second he was with her, being physically overpowering for her, and she’d have it too.
But mostly it was just about Elsa.
Never in his life, looking like he did, and being Corey Szabo’s son, had he met anyone, particularly a woman, who got up in his shit like she did.
It was no fun to dominate someone who kissed your ass.
Visualizing—as he had often—the many ways he’d make Elsa submit, he’d get instantly hard.
And hearing from her, he was enjoying that same sensation as he read her very formal text.
My apologies for texting this early. However, I needed to be certain you’re okay with my makeup artist coming with me. I’ve attached an NDA she’s signed. It isn’t as comprehensive as the one you’ve asked Chuck, Zoey and I to sign, but it should cover you and I both.
Her name is Felicity Jones, and she has quite a bit of experience working with celebrities (I’ve attached a link to her Instagram account), so she understands privacy issues.
If you have questions or concerns, please let me know. Regards, E.
Regards, E.
Signing a fucking text at all, but doing it with “regards?”
Little brat.
Hale smiled as he typed back, That’s fine, and he did that without looking at the NDA her makeup artist signed.
He had no business getting mixed up with Elsa Cohen.
But he was going to.
As she’d noted, she’d signed a ten-page NDA that covered everything outside what he’d approve to be released in her interview.
And he’d made certain his attorneys had included language that would go beyond what they were doing that day, his involvement in renting her new space, his involvement in owning her studio and apartment building, to encompass his involvement with her in any way at all.
He wasn’t smiling when he thought about what he’d discovered after he’d left her place of business in Brooklyn.
After her interview with his mother, he’d made immediate moves to be in a position to put pressure on her if she caused his family any more trouble. However, he hadn’t paid attention to what that meant.
He’d found that her apartment wasn’t in as sketchy of an area as her studio, and, unsurprisingly for the city or anywhere near, it was a tiny one-bedroom.
However, this was surprising for who he thought she was because she didn’t give that vibe at all, not on her show, not outside it. She was class from top to toe. The ice queen. Reporting on it, but above it all. She appreciated her viewers, and she showed it, but still, there was a sense she was removed from them, from everything.
Like her Disney namesake, in his head, the real Elsa was the princess in her ice castle somewhere no one could touch her.
Which made her even more attractive to Hale.
And it made him dislike with an intensity he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, the fact her designer gear and immaculate set were illusions.
Anyone would think Elsa would go from her state-of-the-art studio to a brownstone or a co op with a doorman, not a tiny apartment in Bedstuy.
And Hale now had it in his head that the brownstone or co op was what she deserved.
Because she had hustle. She had grit. And the four and a half hours of her show he’d carved out time to watch since the day before showed him something he’d missed.
She had integrity.
She could be her generation’s Oprah (after Oprah had seen the light), and it seemed clear to him that was the path she’d put herself on.
Earlier shows were about the dish, though it was never truly catty or cutting. She had her persona, which was definitely a façade, and she delivered the news in a manner that made you feel inside her inner sanctum. But in the end, it was just news.
And more often than not, there was a thread of positivity in her reports. Sometimes it was forced, but it was there. She didn’t glory in people’s foibles or failures, but if they were news, she reported them. Though in her signoff she urged her watchers to “keep it positive,” and she injected that in her segments—doing, not just saying.
However, lately, she’d veered away from the gossip and more toward interviews. She had the status now to attract somewhat-heavy hitters. They were B-listers, but ones on the rise, not the other way around. And she handled these interviews well, as she’d asserted to him the day before. The broadcasts were slick, well-researched and expertly edited, and her personality was intact, but it wasn’t about gotcha journalism or making her interviewees emotional so they had to fight tears or discomfort on camera.