Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Good energy,” he repeats skeptically. “Will you be breaking out the crystal healing wands next?”
“You never know.” My voice drops. “I’m a walking disaster, Patton. Watch out.”
Too honest.
But he doesn’t flinch as he smiles.
“You don’t need good energy, woman. You need a damn break. And you need more company than a hyperactive five-year-old who keeps you running ragged. You need me to—” He pauses as our tour guide rounds the corner, irritation written across his face after noticing we’re missing.
“Guys, can you please try to keep up with the group?” He’s polite but exasperated.
Patton pulls a face behind me. I struggle to keep my expression straight as the guide blusters and takes his place at the front while we rush up behind him to rejoin the group.
“Like I was saying,” he starts pointedly, and Patton winks at me.
I dissolve into silent laughter.
I’m happily listening to the guide’s lecture, but I’m not sorry we drifted off. Being here with Patton feels like the kind of luck and company that can’t possibly be bad for me.
By the time we head out later, my hand still pressed in his, I’ve found my own energy.
I’m walking on sunshine.
We get back in plenty of time for another fancy dinner, this time with a group of large real estate investors from across the country.
The sun ripples, bloodred on the horizon as we change into our dinner clothes. Patton emerges in a crisp black suit.
I’m wearing the best frilly red cutout dress money can buy from a secondhand store.
Not that you’d ever be able to tell.
He stops and stares at me so hard I wonder if I’ve smeared my makeup.
“Um, what? Too much skin?” I ask nervously. “Just say the word and I’ll change. I brought a few options.”
“Too much you,” he growls raggedly, striding forward until we’re a breath apart. “Fuck, Salem, you make this too easy—and too damn hard to keep pretending. Can’t decide which one’s worse.”
I shiver.
Because I know he’s not just stroking my ego. There’s no mistaking the molten look in his eyes, the raw hunger, the way he looks at the cutout around my waist.
If looks could tear my clothes off, I’m pretty sure I’d be naked right now.
“Don’t change a thing,” he rumbles. “And if anyone touches you or makes you uncomfortable, you tell me.”
There’s a violence in his voice that makes me shudder again.
“Um, okay. It’s modern enough, though? No designer label, of course, but it was the best I could find on short notice. I’m honestly more worried what the ladies will think.”
“You can stop. It isn’t the dress at all. I promise you at least half of the women here would kill for your look. They shell out small fortunes trying to pretty themselves up the way you do naturally.”
No words. I turn away, hopelessly trying to hide the redness creeping into my face.
That’s serious praise I’m not sure I deserve. At least I’m grateful this getup fits flawlessly.
“I’m ready,” I say, grabbing my black purse. “Let’s go swim with the sharks.”
Patton looks me up and down one more time, a strange expression etched on his face.
“Tonight,” he says, “we’re the goddamned sharks.”
“Maybe you. Me, I’m bait,” I say with a laugh.
“When we get back, woman, we’re working on your self-esteem.” And he offers me his arm as we step into the cool night to walk the short distance to the restaurant.
Although it was warm enough during the day, the evenings are still cold, and I wish I’d thought to bring a shawl or something.
“I’m nervous,” I admit just before we head into the large well-lit entrance to the eatery. “I feel more like I should be serving these people at The Cardinal. Not pretending I’m their peer.”
“You deserve to be here more than a lot of them. Trust me.” He snorts. “Half these folks were born with money and venture capital coming out their ears. They built empires on easy mode without ever worrying about grit or debt.”
“Well… I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to make me feel better, Patton. But there’s a hard limit to what I can make myself believe.” I square my shoulders and flick him a glance as we stop near the door. “Shall we?”
“Tonight, I’m all yours,” he says, and there’s a midnight tone to his voice.
Holy Mother of God.
I don’t dare think too hard about what that means as he whisks me inside, or that cryptic remark about my self-esteem.
The place is about what you’d expect, this time decked out for a large private dinner.
It’s all the glitzy glamour worthy of a modern day Gatsby. Draped crystal chandeliers that almost touch the floor and gilded chairs. A white tablecloth and the fanciest forks known to man that require a degree in etiquette to use correctly.
Patton keeps a tight hold on my arm as we find our seats. His eyes scan over people, his smile equal parts invitation and warning.