Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
"You have another delivery," Mallory says, smiling at me as soon as I step through the doors. "I put it in your office."
"Another one?" I glance at the massive clock hanging on the wall, my curiosity officially piqued. "It's not even eight in the morning. Florists aren't even open yet."
"This one didn't come from a florist," she says with a laugh.
I practically run to my office to see what Jonas sent me this time. My heart flutters when I see the elegant black box sitting in my chair, an envelope tucked through the bow. I drop my bag beside my desk and push my door closed before reaching for the envelope.
A front-row ticket to tomorrow's game slips out, along with a note.
Come.
My stomach flutters when I read the single word, images from last night bombarding my mind. He growled that same word, demanding I come for him over and over. I did, incapable of doing anything but obeying. I'm helpless to do anything but obey now too.
Of course I'll attend the game tomorrow. I never miss them. But this time one feels different. I'm not attending as Jamie Knight, nosy reporter. I'm not attending as Jamie Knight, a woman harboring a secret crush, either. I'll be attending as Jamie Knight, the woman wildly, desperately in love with the man of her dreams.
I slip the ticket and note into my bag and then tear into the box, curious to see what he sent me. My heart threatens to burst out of my chest when I find a jersey inside, his name and number emblazoned across the back. There's another note inside.
Wear this.
Oh, my goodness.
This crazy man is staking his claim on me. In front of the entire freaking world.
My phone rings, startling me. I jump a foot into the air and then laugh at myself. Jeez, I'm a mess. He makes me a mess in the best way possible.
I love it.
I pull my cell out of my pocket, beaming when I see his name across the display.
"Hey," I whisper, swiping to answer.
"I miss you," he complains. "You've been at work too long."
"I just got here."
"I know. That's too long."
I smile like a crazy person. "I miss you too."
"Did you get my present?"
"I did," I whisper, running my fingers over his name on the jersey. "I love it, Jonas."
"Wear it tomorrow. Sit behind the bench with Laney," he growls. "I want to know where to look when I need to see something beautiful."
Oh, he's good at that.
"Are you sure?" I ask, worrying my bottom lip. Laney and I get along really well. She's always been nice to me, but I don't want to intrude, especially since this is their last game before the playoffs. Families always sit behind the bench, and I'm not exactly family to most of these guys.
"Positive," he says. "I want you where you belong."
How can I resist when he says things like that? I can't. I don't care what his teammates think. If he wants me there, I'll be there with a smile on my face to cheer him on. Of course I will.
"Okay," I agree.
"Yeah? You'll come?"
"Yeah." I laugh quietly. "I'll come."
"Fuck," he growls. "This day needs to end already."
He's right. It does.
"My door was closed for a reason," I snap at Darren when he barges in an hour later, not even bothering to knock. I'm so tired of tolerating his disrespect and boorish behavior. I'm not doing it anymore. Enough is enough.
"Wow. Cranky, much?" He smirks at me, a condescending gleam in his eyes as he invites himself to take a seat. "You pick the strangest hills to die on, all things considered."
"What does that mean?" I demand, glaring at him from across my desk.
He shrugs a shoulder and then wipes invisible lint off his starched blue button-down. "You're a gossip reporter. I'm surprised you have any concept of privacy," he says. "Most women don't."
"I'm a reporter," I say firmly. "You're the one who decided I should report on trivial gossip, not me."
"Touché."
I rub my temples, a headache beginning to pound behind my eyes. "Do you need something, Darren? I have things to do if you want me to have a segment pieced together to film today."
"Just following up on our little chat," he says conversationally. "Have you gotten the info?"
My stomach twists. I knew that was why he was here, but I kind of hoped he'd let it die. I guess I'm an idealist. I push my keyboard away, taking a minute to collect my thoughts. I want to have this conversation calmly and rationally, but he makes it so freaking hard to do that. "I do have the info," I say carefully. "But I won't be using it."
His eyes narrow, his entire demeanor shifting from false camaraderie to complete derision. "Excuse me?" he growls, his face turning red. "I don't recall this being your decision."