Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
I almost want him to yell at me.
“You’re too damn smart for me to get up in your life,” he says quietly. “But Dess, you’d better put those brains to good use if you really want to get mixed up with Shepherd Foster. The man’s not what he seems. He’s—screw it. If you want to know, you know where to find me. Until then, I’ll let you decide.”
What the hell?
What is he even talking about?
I’m on the verge of tears, so ready to go full defiant brat on my father like I haven’t since I was seventeen and bored out of my skull with everything Wired Cup.
But before I can tell him to kindly fuck right out of my life, I see the flashing screen.
He’s disconnected the call, leaving the void between us.
And coming from Cole Lancaster, that’s the most grown-up courtesy you can imagine.
The presentation takes place in a conference room that feels almost tropical.
I drain sips of water every few slides with the board’s haughty, overly professional eyes on me, slow-walking them through my idea.
And it’s a damn good concept, I’ll admit.
My research is solid and I know it. I’ve got stacks of evidence to back up my claims, and the personal experience we captured on the trail speaks volumes.
I even added the pictures from the weekend, boosting my arguments for the many ways this technology can revolutionize how wildlife organizations collect data on various species.
If this were one more college speech, I would’ve aced it.
But it’s not.
These five men and one woman watch me with slitted eyes the entire time.
Somehow, I know they’re not looking at graphs and otters, even if they’re right there in front of their faces.
They’re seeing the other photos from that trip that were posted online.
They’re hearing TikTok and Twitter and tabloid garbage every time I open my mouth.
They’re wondering if I seduced him or if I’m just the latest in a slew of young, dumb girls who didn’t know any better.
They’re thinking Shepherd Foster is another rich, older goat who creeps on younger women, then hands out professional favors like candy.
A chill sweeps down my spine every time their gaze zips over me. I’m extra glad I dressed modestly today.
Oh, sure, they nod along every time I stress how critical sea otters are to the coastal ecosystem. The woman frowns with real heartache when I point out how their population crashed in perfect correlation with invasive industries.
They give me all the polite applause I could ever want at the end, and a big, blocky man thanks me and calls it an impressive speech.
But deep down, I’m thinking I blew it.
The board won’t sign off on a purely charitable venture like this when it’s tainted by egos and nasty whispers.
They’ll cave to the public spectacle around Shepherd and me. All made worse by the fact that it’s compounding the mess with Vanessa Dumas.
I wonder if they’re even plotting to remove him as CEO, assuming they can.
That makes my heart sting.
But I’m more surprised than anything to find Shepherd standing in the shadows in the back of the room when I pack up my laptop and leave.
How long has he been there?
Did he really take time out of his crazy schedule to come listen to me?
“God himself would’ve been convinced by that, Destiny. Hell of a job,” he says crisply.
I’m drowning in butterflies, but I also feel weak.
“Well, maybe he can help sway the board then. I doubt they’ll approve it, and it has nothing to do with anything I said...”
His eyes sharpen, searching mine.
I stand there in front of him, knowing that all eyes are on us now.
If their minds weren’t made up during the speech, I’m sure they are now, seeing us together like this, standing far too close and whispering to each other.
“You made your points and you showered them with proof. That’s what matters,” he growls, his blue eyes dark and stern and so hypnotically lovely I lose myself in them without a fight.
“Thanks. I was so nervous.” My tone is stilted, formal, so I offer him a quick smile to make up for it.
“Nervous? Bull. You were confident with your findings. I listened to the whole thing. Every slide was well thought out and documented.”
“You know what they say... fake it till you make it.” My smile trembles a bit.
“No illusions needed, Miss Destiny. Leave the rest to me.”
My eyebrows go up as he starts moving past me. “What does that mean, Shep—” I catch myself “Mr. Foster?”
“I have to go.” He glances at his watch, the one status symbol he seems to wear religiously. It’s a ring of solid gold that must cost more than most people’s annual salaries. “I have another meeting in five. However, I told you I’ll handle this if they need more persuading.”
It’s so hard to stand. I’m almost giddy knowing he wants to fight for me, but also knowing he shouldn’t.