Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
The elevator doors slid open. I stormed out of the alcove, headed for the nearest receptionist. My wallet would weep at the price of The Grand Regent’s cheapest room, but I could barely keep my eyes open.
Since noon, the hotel venue spaces had churned out event after event. I passed a welcoming party for new recruits, some influencer’s sweet sixteen, a wedding reception with well-wishers cruising in and out, and a legal conference that just ended.
Guests gathered in small groups around the lobby. It hummed with classical music, networking, and awkward chuckles from people trapped in small-talk hell. I barely noticed that the staff had replaced the tulips – a soft pink this morning – with striking indigo roses.
“The only one who needs therapy here is you. For your chronic lease-breaking addiction.” I weaved through the crowd and sidled into the line behind an elderly woman in a demure Chanel pantsuit. “Seriously, Oliver, what the fuck?”
The woman clutched her pearls, clearly scandalized by my colorful language.
“Would you believe me if I told you I had good intentions?”
“Oh, absolutely.” I crept up in line, wondering where he was with all that noise in the background. “As much as I believe you’ve taken up knitting and yoga.”
“I did take up knitting, actually.” Oliver didn’t miss a beat, still cheerful as ever. “Did you think my double-XL cock warmer made itself?”
“You’re disgusting,” I informed him at the same time some woman shrieked through the line.
I frowned, wondering how that came through my phone speaker so loudly. Near the entrance, a woman jumped back, failing to dodge a wave of coffee as it splashed her.
She swiped as much of the liquid as she could from her evening gown while the perpetrator dabbed at the stain with the edge of his sleeve.
The lethal heel of her stiletto stomped on the marble. “You ruined my dress.”
It took a second for me to register that I’d heard her words through the line, as well. When I did, I almost dropped my phone. My head whipped up. I scanned the crowd for the source of my headache.
And there he was.
Oliver von Bismarck – his gaze locked on mine and that maddening signature smirk plastered on his kissable lips.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Oliver
It was only fitting that I landed in Los Angeles with a posse.
Romeo, Zach, Dallas, and Farrow followed me here, uninvited, for the sheer pleasure of watching me eat a giant slice of humble pie. (Apparently, nothing bonded friends like a cross-country pilgrimage to witness me grovel.)
They scored front-row seats in the lobby waiting area, actual popcorn in hand.
Meanwhile, I leaned against a column, waiting for Briar to spot me. The sight of her – so fucking gorgeous I wanted to taste her – made the five-hour trip here worth it. I gulped up every detail: the messy top bun, the skintight yoga pants, the frustrated frown on her pouty lips.
Then, her head snapped up, sweeping left and right before landing on me.
Our eyes met.
For a second, I forgot every single line I’d rehearsed on the flight. Then, her expression morphed from a smile into a scowl. I pushed off the column and crossed the lobby, meeting her halfway.
I didn’t bother hiding my grin. “Did I just make your day?”
“If you’re here to escort me back to Potomac, I can’t go.” She chewed on her lower lip. “My dad is here.”
“Time out.” I held up a hand to stop her. “We need a make-out break before we start arguing. I haven’t seen you in thirty fucking days, and I’m about two seconds from falling to my knees and begging to touch you. Personally, I’m game, but I figured you’d rather not make TMZ headlines.”
With that, I stormed forward, cradled her face in my giant hands, and pressed my lips to hers. Her hesitation melted under my touch. She slid her arms around my neck. Her tiny gasps curled into my mouth like a gentle caress. I dove my tongue inside, tangling with hers.
Briar’s fingernails found my shoulders and dug in deep enough to leave marks for days. The kiss held every word I’d wanted to say for the last thirty days.
I love you, and I love you, and I love you.
She clawed at my chest, trying to yank me closer. Our mouths moved in sync, hungry and desperate and unrestrained. Around us, people cheered and catcalled. I’d already forgotten where we were.
We reluctantly pulled apart, breathless and still clinging to each other. The world crept back inch by unforgiving inch. We’d garnered an audience with our PDA, but at least they were polite enough to give us a wide berth.
I rested my forehead on hers, savoring the closeness. “I missed you.”
“I thought of you every second on the island.” Briar cleared her throat and tried to lighten the mood. “I bet your right hand is tired from its thirty-day workout challenge.”