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)
He’s the kind of man who gets what he wants and never forgets a favor or a betrayal.
“Alright?” he asks me soothingly, jutting his chin toward my plate, silently encouraging me to eat as I give a nod.
Strangely relieved but dying from curiosity now at the same time.
“Might have to drop into the office at some point today after all,” he tells me, and I feel my stomach drop for some reason.
The thought of being apart from him already is painful.
“We might have to drop into the office,” he corrects himself, making me smile and instantly revived enough to finish my breakfast.
“I think you’ll be interested in the two projects I’ve picked to work on,” he adds cryptically.
His eyes shine with delight and more than just a little mischief.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the man was planning some sort of a surprise or something. But I have no idea how anything to do with his work could involve me.
I used to hate surprises, not knowing what was gonna happen next.
But that finished yesterday when I met Steve.
It showed me that life could take everything from you with one hand but have a ton of better things ready to hand you with the other.
If you’re ready to accept it, that is.
Although it’s gonna take some practice, I think I can make this work. Being in so deep so soon with Steve is what makes it easier.
My nasty habits of what I tell myself are the only things holding me back now.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Steve
As much as I could sit around the place watching Holly in nothing but one of my shirts all day, I’ve got more than just some memory back.
I can feel the thrill of acquisition like I’ve never felt before, like how it felt twenty years ago before I even had a staff or office.
My plan for Holly’s problems is simple, but before any work, I feel like Holly deserves a little more play.
And as much as she’s told me how independent she is, I’m yet to meet anyone who doesn’t enjoy some good old-fashioned retail therapy.
Hell, even I go shopping for something nice when I feel a little down or even just for the hell of it. And at this time of year, with Holly on my arm, there’s no better reason to go out and have some fun.
It’s afternoon by the time we hit the sidewalks, and I’m keeping to the nicer side of town with Holly until it’s time to head to the office.
I need to give Madison some time to do what he has to organize but also give Holly a taste for the finer things from specialized stores rather than off-the-rack stuff.
I know, I know. It sounds like a rich asshole problem. But once you have a tailored suit and shoes that actually fit, it does make a difference.
Especially a guy my size, but today’s all about Holly, who’s still hesitant at first until our visit to the lingerie store’s done.
It’s her idea. “If you insist on buying me clothes, then I insist on starting with things I know will make you happy, too,” she chimes. She is promising me some surprises of her own once she’s been fitted and has a dozen bags we stow in my car’s trunk.
I used to drive myself everywhere. Lately, it’s always Madison or someone else. But I feel better behind the wheel myself with Holly in the car. Knowing I’m the one keeping her safe.
When we’re walking, arm in arm, I look around us, and I can feel the world like I’ve never felt it before at this time of year.
Yeah, it’s freezing cold, and the sidewalk is slippery with dark and dirty sludge, but being with Holly makes everything brighter somehow.
Gives me a reason for everything I’ve been working on for the past two decades.
I could just be caught up in the whole Christmas thing, but I even fancy that we get a few smiles as we walk, my huge body bundling hers close to keep her warm as we do more than just window shop.
By the time the car’s full of boxes and bags, Holly looks pale when I ask if she’d like something else, like maybe some perfumes or jewelry.
“Uh… Steve,” she says, looking almost pained once we’re back in the car.
“You don’t need to do all this,” she reminds me. “I’ve got a whole new wardrobe and so many things I never even dreamed of having…,” she stammers. The emotion in her voice was not as happy as I’d like to hear.
I’m not taking her shopping to show off or make her feel bad. I’m just getting her the things she wants and needs.
I tell her as much, realizing I might have pressed her a little too far too soon with the ‘stuff’ angle.