Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73568 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
And Posey isn’t even trying to catch my attention, yet she has done exactly that. I’m just not sure in what way. Intriguing in ways I hadn’t expected, it’s more than just her determination to infiltrate Crown Velocity as a fake journalist. It’s the fact that she’s made a successful career out of spinning stories from her imagination and her admission she might not even believe in them.
I mean… hell, I don’t believe in happily ever after either, but I had an urge a bit ago to prove her wrong. Or to at least argue with her that she’s wrong. And yet I don’t know anything about the ways of love and romance. I’m a twenty-four-year-old multimillionaire who drives fast cars and faster women.
I’m still mulling over our conversation, my attention on Posey as she takes her tray to the rubbish bin, when Ronan sits down in her vacant chair. I blink and focus in on him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s watching Posey over his shoulder as she heads toward the exit. “How’s it going with the dork shadowing you?” he asks, his tone dripping with scorn as he turns to me.
I frown, irritation bubbling up. “Don’t call her that. She’s nice.”
Ronan raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. He glances at Posey, who’s almost out of the cafeteria now, her green puffy coat a hiding the woman beneath. “Nice, huh? I guess that’s the best thing you can say about her.”
I follow his gaze, watching her leave. Nice doesn’t do her justice. Sure, she’s no supermodel, but there’s something undeniably pretty about her. She’s got this natural thing going on—no frills, no airs. Her dark brown hair is thick and wavy, just past her shoulders. The freckles across her nose give her an approachable, girl-next-door vibe. The fact that she’s not fawning over me like most women do is so fucking intriguing. I respect the hell out of her determination to pull off this whole gig just to get a feel for the sport, and the way she’s created a lucrative career writing books about love and obstacles—that’s commendable.
But I don’t say any of that to Ronan. He wouldn’t get it, and frankly, I don’t feel like justifying myself. I shrug and change the subject. “What’re you up to tonight?”
Ronan’s eyes flick back to me, his cocky grin returning. “Big party in London. Loads of people going. You in?”
For the first time, I hesitate. Normally, I’d be all in for a night out, but something about the way Spencer talked to me earlier gnaws at the back of my mind. I can’t afford to screw up again. “I dunno. That sounds like trouble waiting for me and I have to keep my behavior under control.”
Ronan waves a hand, brushing off my concern. “Relax, mate. It’ll be fine. You’re not going to get into a fight with some bloody earl again. Just come out, have a few drinks, unwind. You need to have fun while you can. Once the season starts, it’s going to be all work and no play.” Ronan considers that, then laughs. “Oh, who am I kidding… we always have time to play.”
I ponder it for a moment, still on the fence, then I say, “I’ll invite Posey.”
Ronan’s smile falters, his eyes narrowing as he leans forward, his tone dropping to something more serious—almost disgusted. “Why would you do that?”
I shrug, playing it off like it’s no big deal. “She’ll keep me out of trouble.”
Ronan’s eyes harden, his jaw tightening. “Do you… like her or something?”
I blink, taken aback by the question. “What? No, of course not. She’s just a reporter, that’s all. I have to be nice to her so she writes a good article.”
Ronan studies me for a moment longer, then leans back in his chair, shaking his head. “Good. But don’t encourage her. The last thing you need is someone like her falling for you. You’re way out of her league and then you’ll be stuck trying to give her the brush-off.”
His words hang in the air, and I feel a flash of annoyance. Yeah, Ronan’s kind of a douche. Sure, Posey’s not the type to turn heads in the VIP clubs we usually go to, but there’s more to her than that. I don’t need to defend her to him, though, so I keep my opinions to myself.
“Whatever, man,” I say, standing up and grabbing my tray. “I’ll see you tonight.”
As I walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe Ronan doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.
Or maybe I don’t know myself as well as I think I do.
CHAPTER 7
Posey
I stare at my laptop screen, the cursor blinking at me, almost in time with the dull ache behind my eyes. It’s nearly midnight, and I’ve been working for hours now, trying to weave in everything I’ve learned at Crown Velocity to lend authenticity to my story without getting too technical. I scroll back a few paragraphs and reread the latest section.