Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
But I am not a typical man.
That’s not to say I don’t have basic needs.
And yes, sometimes I have an itch I need to scratch. Maybe this lady would be the perfect distraction in another place, another time. But right now, I only have one woman on my mind. And that’s the woman I’m going to seek out.
“We need to talk about my residence.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What about your residence?”
“I was wondering if you could take me on a tour. I forgot the layout, and I wanted to see—”
I hold my hand up, stopping her right there. “I’m sorry, Mrs . . .”
“Mrs. Murphy.” Of course. The very married Mrs. Murphy. The wife of one of the biggest donors of this establishment.
I tread carefully, not wanting to insult her, yet not giving a fuck if I do. My partners would have my ass, and although I normally don’t care, I need this project to go off without a hitch.
“Mrs. Murphy, please schedule an appointment with me for next week. I would be honored to show you the ins and outs of your residence.”
She beams at me, and I have to refrain from showing any negative emotion. Again, something I’ve grown accustomed to at these occasions. Refraining from showing emotion is second nature to me. If anything, it’s a ploy and an act when I do let the walls break.
I say goodbye to Mrs. Murphy and go off in search of Layla. I find her standing in the corner, observing the crowd.
She looks regal where she stands. Like a goddess sent down from heaven.
Her presence torments me because I want so badly to be a normal man for her. To be able to spend quality time with her. But I have too much baggage, too many secrets, too many skeletons in my closet. If I’m not careful, and if I don’t keep every aspect of my life locked in tight, I run the risk of everything falling out. I can’t mitigate the damage if that were ever to happen.
So as much as I want to pursue her, I can’t. Tomorrow will be the last time I see Layla. And because that is the case, I intend to make the most of this final evening. I cross the room on a mission.
One sole destination in my view.
And despite the consequences of this decision, I don’t care.
16
Layla
I’m standing in the corner of the room. The need for air and to escape is overpowering.
The crowd. The people.
This party is a lot to handle.
It’s not that I’m upset to be here, not at all. It’s actually quite the opposite. I know it’s important for the article that I’m in attendance. My presence here will give me the opportunity to see who the investors are and who the residents will be, but at the same time, I want to leave already.
I peer around the room, looking for Cain. He’s nowhere to be found.
Then on my third sweep of the room, I do catch him. This time, there is a woman beside him. Another woman. However, unlike the last time I saw him, when it seemed to be merely a business conversation, this one looks different.
Nothing about this conversation is innocent or professional. My eyes narrow at the vision before me. This tall goddess has her hand on his shoulder.
I know I have no reason to feel jealous. But I can’t help myself.
My stomach sours at how she touches him. The familiarity she seems to have with Cain makes me tense.
Stop looking.
As many times as I tell myself to look somewhere else, I can’t. Instead, I find myself staring for far too long.
Anger coils inside me.
It’s irrational.
I know this. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling it.
Taking a step to my left, I position myself in a location where I can no longer see him.
There’s no reason to make a show of it. I know I don’t have a shot with him—not with women like this hanging on his every word—so why torture myself? Standing around gawking at him is the equivalent of looking at a dessert buffet if my mouth is wired shut. We are just acquaintances. He invited me as a business courtesy.
From where I’m now positioned, I’m able to take in the bar’s ambience. The low lighting and chandeliers that hang above it. They spared no expense. My stiff shoulders drop in relief now that the looming shadow of Cain and whoever he’s talking to is no longer front and center.
Finally, I can do what I’m supposed to do. I’m able to think.
Mentally, I take notes.
I only had one drink, so my memory should be clear tomorrow when I’m able to record this.
This party is spectacular, and I try to remember every small detail.
I’m lost in thought when I feel a presence standing in front of me. With my head tipped down, the shadow he wields eats up the distance between us. There’s no need to look up to know who it is. Only one person would cross a room and stand in front of me. But despite the fact that I know he’s there, I don’t lift my gaze.