Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
He’s from Cleveland, the big city to me, and Papa would never approve of his multi-colored hair and ear piercings, but we are kindred spirits in our own opposite sort of way.
“O.M.G.” He enunciates each letter, releasing my arm and waving a hand in the air. “Gurl, what is going on with you?”
“What do you mean?” I set my things down on the side chair, and start to dig out my food items, setting things up for the video.
“Someone is looking for you.”
Fear heats my face, sure it’s Papa, and he’s found out I’m not just taking classes. “Who?”
“Some guy. No, guys. Plural. One slick suit and two goons. Like from The Sopranos or some shit. If they weren’t dressed so nice, I’d think it was the Amish Mafia or whatever your people calls themselves after your good girl ass. But they’re more like Madison Avenue meets Christian Grey. Seriously.”
Confusion spins inside of me. “They can’t be looking for me.”
“Oh, yes, they can.” He bobs his head. “They had your video, showing it around to everyone they could find. I followed them on the down low until they went into the administration offices. Gurl, you are either about to have the worst day of your life or the best.” A little grin spreads over his lips, and I get the feeling he’s having fun admiring whoever they are.
“This doesn’t make any sense...”
There’s a loud knock on the door and both Cameron and I jump and yelp, reaching for each other’s hands.
“Gurl, fate has come calling.”
When the door opens, there’s the most stunning man in a near-silver suit, standing there looking at me like he’s just discovered some long-lost treasure. He’s enormous, nearly as tall as the doorway, with a chest that fills out the front of his suit perfectly and a deep scar along his left jawline that gives his face an odd but sexy anti-symmetry.
“Anastasia?” He stares at me so hard I back up into the oven.
I look over at Cameron, who glances at the man then back to me, raising his eyebrows.
Words fail me as I stutter, and Cameron rolls his eyes and takes point.
“Yes, she’s Anastasia. I’m her manager, Cameron Collins.” Cameron steps forward and extends his hand. “And you are...?”
The man considers Cameron for a long moment, then takes his hand and shakes it firmly as he answers. “I’m the man who is about to change her life.”
T H R E E
Ash
THE WORLD MELTS AWAY. Nothing exists except her.
The need I had as I watched her videos is nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now. The raging thought in my brain is: I don’t think I can ever go another day without her.
Beautiful is such an insufficient descriptive. The copper-red hair that dangles around her shoulders in waves is more stunning than I imagined. Her sky-blue eyes, shocking against ivory skin so perfect it rivals any China doll. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and touch the freckles on her nose and cheeks before letting her know there will not be another day without me.
Because I couldn’t bear it.
I drop the hand of the young man who introduced himself as her manager. He seems friendly enough, but I’m captivated by her lips as they rub nervously against each other. The vibrant green tank dress that drapes over her curves makes my mouth water.
Even from this distance, her scent is hinted with raspberries and cream, and I wonder how she tastes.
I catch her confused stare and introduce myself. “I’m Ash Thompson, and I’ve seen your videos.”
I see her eyes flick to my two bodyguards, who are standing just behind me and the fear in her eyes stirs such a protectiveness inside me I almost lose my cool. I turn, tipping my head to the door, and without a word, they turn on their heels and step out. When I look back, she’s more relaxed, but there is suspicion in her eyes.
“Ash Thompson.” Her friend hoots. “Seriously?” He does this little jump and backs away, putting a hand on her shoulder, making my pulse race because he’s touching what’s mine. “I imagined you taller, somehow...”
“I’m six feet six inches. Taller than that, it becomes rather inconvenient, I imagine.”
Something about him tells me he’s not a threat but seeing him touch Anastasia...my Anastasia...has my heart beating hard, and I feel a bead of sweat trickle down the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry I don’t—” She shakes her head. “—know who you are.” Her fingertips brush over her forehead, and her eyes narrow.
I clear my throat and try to stay calm and professional, when inside I’m feeling like a schoolboy ready to ask the prom queen on a date.
“I’m just a businessman. I’ve been looking for you. I run a few companies that are in the food industry, and your videos have come to my attention.”