Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I don’t bite.” His voice makes me jump a little.
“Okay,” I say, turning away from him.
“Unless you want me to.”
I choose to not answer him and close my eyes.
It’s the smartest thing to do.
I think.
I wake to the smell of food.
My stomach grumbles loudly and I cover my eyes with my hand.
“Eat.”
Shit. I know that voice.
Then it all comes flooding back to me. Kenzo, the chapel, the ring. I lift my hand from my face and hold it above my head, looking at the ring.
“Eat,” he says again.
I lower my hand and climb from the bed, noticing that the pillow I put between us is no longer there and that he is fully dressed and looking way too good. He sits at the small table in the corner of the room, where a food tray is waiting. He holds up his phone, flicking through whatever it is that holds his interest.
“Were you hungry?” I ask, looking at the food. I take a piece of bacon and start chewing.
“No, I had a shake.”
“But you ordered so much,” I say, confused. It’s like he ordered everything from the menu. “You aren’t going to eat any of it?”
He glances at the plates, then to me, before focusing back on his phone.
Shit. He ordered it all for me.
I definitely won’t be able to eat this much.
Do I say thank you?
I guess the best way to say thank you is to eat, right?
My phone starts dinging, and I get up with a piece of toast in my hand to grab it. I see Jeff’s name on the screen. Opening the message, he wants to know if my husband and I can meet him for lunch.
Shit.
“What?”
“Huh?” I say, looking at Kenzo.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…” I shake my head. “My boss wants to meet for lunch.”
“And?” he questions, looking back at his phone.
“He wants you to come.”
He pauses, then clicks a few things on his screen.
“You’ll need another shower. I can still smell the alcohol on you,” he tells me. “You better get ready.”
“You told me to eat,” I remind him. He places his phone in his lap and stares at me. “Why are you helping me? We hardly know each other,” I question.
“I decided you would be my charity case. My twin tells me I’m too cold and should do something good for once in my life. This is my good.” He waves a hand at me. I’m a little baffled and insulted at the same time.
“I’m not a charity case,” I insist.
“If you say so.” He shrugs, and I grab a pancake and throw it at him.
“I’m not a charity case,” I tell him again. As I walk to the bathroom to get ready, I snag my bag, slamming the door shut behind me.
Fuck him.
I shower again. I didn’t plan to, but if I do still smell, I’d hate my boss to notice. Holding the towel to me, I riffle through my bag until I find a sundress, then slide the garment over my head.
I’m unsure why I packed this dress, but it will do. It’s long, falling just below my knees, with flowers on it. It buttons all the way up, and I leave the first two undone. It’s not something I would usually wear, but I did buy it for this trip. To show I don’t always look so bland.
I am bland, and that’s okay.
But right now, I think I need to try something a bit different if I want this position.
I twist my hair and put it in a claw clip as I step out of the bathroom. Kenzo is gone, and my phone is where I left it on the chair I was sitting on. I find a pair of sandals to slide onto my feet, then grab my purse and leave.
Closing the door behind me, I try to think of a good excuse to tell Jeff as to why my husband isn’t with me.
Oh my fucking God.
I’m married.
Married.
As in, I have a husband.
How did that not fully sink in until now? I mean, I can’t keep my eyes off the ring, but I didn’t really think I would have a husband.
An asshole husband at that.
Didn’t really expect much more for myself, to be honest.
Walking out of the lobby, I return to the hotel where Jeff and my co-workers are staying. I’m not sure what to say to Jeff or what he wants to meet about.
I run my sweaty palms over my dress as a hand lands on my hip. I jump, then spin around to see Kenzo.
“I wouldn’t act too disgusted, wife. We have an audience,” he says quietly. The way he says “wife” is almost an insult. His eyes are on me, and his hand tightens on my hip as he leans down closer to my ear. “Act like you can stand to be beside me, like when you slept and were moaning my name out in the middle of the night. Made my cock hard as fuck.” I know my cheeks redden at his words. I can feel them radiating heat as Jeff approaches us.