Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
A stir in the gathered crowd snapped me back to reality. Orion and his sister were approaching, and my heart did that stupid little flutter it had started doing lately. Not that I was bragging, but ever since I took over as his Hate Notes messenger, the morning crowd had been steadily growing. I liked to think it was because of my expert delivery. It might also have been the collective thrill of watching someone torment a man they feared too much to cross themselves.
Orion was, as always, immaculate. His dark gray suit fit him like a glove, and his sharp jawline was a masterpiece carved from marble. I wasn't saying I was impressed or anything, but the man did have a certain aura that made you want to throw pencils at him just to see if he'd flinch. Spoiler: He wouldn't. He'd probably catch them mid-air without looking and use them to sign something important while maintaining eye contact.
I waited while he said something to his sister, Remmy, whose bright smile always made her look more approachable than he'd ever be. Remmy rolled her eyes at him and headed toward me, her artistic soul apparent in her paint-splattered jacket and the way she moved like she was dancing to music only she could hear.
She paused. "Got any good ones today?"
"Very," I said, warming to her presence like I always did. "Oh, did you end up getting enough artists for that showcase tomorrow?" Yeah. That's right. I worked in a little small talk with Orion's sister each morning. We were practically friends by now.
Remmy's face lit up. "Yes! We got the final artist to agree just in time. It's going to be amazing." She took a step as if to leave, then turned back. "Do you want to come?"
Orion was still within earshot, and the look on his face told me all I needed to know. The muscle in his jaw ticked in that way that definitely didn't make my stomach do weird flips.
"Yes," I said immediately, partly because I was genuinely interested and partly because of that delicious flash of annoyance in Orion's eyes. "Absolutely yes. What do I wear?"
"Something a little fancy, but don't stress too much. If you look like a slob, people will just assume you're an artist trying to make a statement."
"You can't invite her," Orion said, his voice clipped. The deep rumble of it did things to me that I refused to acknowledge.
"She just did, Mr. Foster," I said sweetly. "Will you be attending?"
"Yes, however—"
"Perfect. I'll see you there, then."
"Ry," Remmy said, touching his chest with a knowing smile. "I doubt she's going to read you any hate notes while she's there. In fact, I think you two would get along amazingly if not for this little arrangement."
Orion gave me one of his most withering, admittedly sexy glares. "No. I highly doubt that."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I have a strict policy when it comes to associating with turds." I cupped my hand around my mouth and whispered, "I don't associate with them. Sorry, Orion."
A ripple of laughter moved through the gathered crowd. Orion's jaw ticked, his nostrils flared, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of the storm brewing in his icy blue eyes. If looks could kill, I'd have been vaporized on the spot.
Remmy gave him a pat on the arm. "Good luck with her, Ry. And if you make an excuse to skip the gallery, I'll know you're full of shit—and I will never forgive you." She smiled sweetly, then strolled off toward her building, leaving us to our usual morning routine.
I cleared my throat and raised the first note, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. The crowd of onlookers raised their phones, eyes lit with excitement.
"Dear Mr. Foster..." I tried to ignore how his cologne seemed to cut through the winter air, making it hard to focus on the words in front of me. “When I was a kid, I watched the Terminator movies and had nightmares for years about robots taking over and killing us all. Ever since I started working for you at Foster Real Estate, those nightmares have ended. So maybe I should thank you. But I still dream about robots taking over. Except now they have impeccably combed hair, calendar-coordinated clothing rotations, and follow everybody around demanding they think about nothing but work. Last night, I dreamed you were standing outside my shower and shouting every time I missed a spot with the soap. Next, you pulled back the curtain, revealing you were completely nak…"
I trailed off, cheeks burning as I skimmed the rest of the note. The winter air suddenly felt a lot warmer. "What the hell is this?" I asked as onlookers chuckled and shared looks.
"Sexual advances are where you draw the line?" Orion asked, voice rough in a way that made my skin tingle. "But you'll happily read the rest of these idiotic notes to me?"