Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Like I would do with anyone else. But it means so much when Steve does things for me, little things or monumental, life-changing, orgasm-type things.
It’s something I’ve never experienced.
He pecks the top of my head as he passes through to the kitchen, and I can hear him tinkering as he reheats food while I check my phone.
Steve’s business shirt on me is more like a robe, and the huge breast pocket is just right for my phone.
I wince and then close my eyes as I open my banking app. I am curious to see if I’ve been paid what I was promised when I get the courage to look.
Zero.
Actually, the account has a minus figure of a few dollars.
Awesome. Jobless, soon-to-be homeless, and just in time for Christmas.
That’s the plan the factory had for us all along.
If that’s big business, they can keep it.
I wonder if that’s the sort of shit Steve’s company would pull?
I doubt it. He’d never let something like that happen.
A plate of piping hot bacon, eggs, and sausage appears in front of me, breaking my depressing reverie as Steve takes his seat opposite mine.
Helping himself to both hot and not-so-hot food now as if it didn’t matter. As if he’s just eating to fuel that massive body of his.
“Too hot?” he asks between mouthfuls when he notices I’m not eating, but I shake my head at the same moment he notices my phone out.
“Did something happen?” he muses to himself, continuing to eat and wait patiently, letting me decide whether I want to talk about it.
I decide to eat first and then tell him about it.
No point ruining a good brunch or breakfast over whining about a job I don’t even have anymore.
I manage to get a few mouthfuls down, but in the end, I’m back to worrying about stuff just out of habit.
Steve’s been pretending to read a folded, upside-down newspaper while I deliberate on whether to spill my guts to him or not.
Finally, he slaps the paper down, “Well?” he asks, brows raised, almost a little annoyed I haven’t confided in him yet.
It’s a disarming look, and it almost makes me laugh because I know he’s only pretending to be so serious.
“It’s my job…,” I groan, rolling my eyes and pretending not to feel so bad about it all. “They haven’t paid me what they said they would, is all,” I tell him.
His look shifts from mock annoyance to genuine interest.
“Holly. You already know you don’t have to worry about money, about anything,” he remarks calmly.
I try to nod, but this all still feels so awkward. I’ve never relied on anyone for anything, let alone money.
“But I’m more interested to know a little more about the company,” Steve suddenly says, patting his robe pockets until he finds his own phone.
I tell him the name of the company, and he frowns.
“Never heard of ‘em,” he says dryly, but keeping his eyes on me, he absently dials a number.
From the change in his voice and attitude, I assume it’s his personal assistant he’s calling.
Steve can sound all business when he wants to.
“I know you have another project for today,” Steve drones politely, shooting me a sly wink. As if I have any idea what he’s up to.
“I just need you to get the details on this company. Owners, finances. Are they already broke or just bought out? You know the drill,” Steve says, his voice sounding more intense. Like he’s getting his daily fix of whatever it is he does for a living.
He tells Madison the company name, then asks about the other project.
“And the real estate inquiry?” That’s all he asks, paying close attention to everything he hears in reply.
“Excellent,” he says crisply and hangs up without another word.
I feel like I’ve witnessed something special, but I have no idea what he’s been doing or talking about.
“… So they said they’d pay for my two weeks’ vacation, and they haven’t,” is all I can manage after a long pause. Steve is lost in his thoughts as he gazes intensely out the windows, sipping coffee.
“Huh?” he asks, breaking from his reverie. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he says, waving off the idea with his hand as if it’s a mosquito in the room.
“I’ll have Madison organize some cards of your own first thing Monday. Anything you want or need before then, just tell me,” he says, as a matter of fact, before reaching for my hand.
“I’m gonna take care of you, Holly. And I’m gonna take care of everything that brought you to me as well,” he says in a low tone.
I know he means it. The intensity of his eyes and the depth of his voice makes me shiver.
Steve Carter isn’t a man I’d want to cross and be on the wrong side of, even though I know everything he does is legitimate.