Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I stare at the message, confused, before I press call, and his voice comes over the phone.
“A date?” I ask just as he says, “Well, hello.”
“Don’t hello me. Why are you asking me on a date? This is supposed to be sex only. Why are you trying to change things?”
“I never said it was only sex. And you still owe me a date.”
“We can skip the formalities since we’re only fucking,” I say matter-of-factly, peeking around the corner of my living room to make sure Bentley can’t hear me.
He sighs. “They know about you… my family, that is. Now my sister insists you attend her birthday party, and I’m not usually able to say no to her.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about your sister complex. I hate people; it’s why I have no friends,” I tell him.
“That’s good. I hate people, too. But not you,” he replies. “But you do still technically owe me a date. Remember that little deal we made when you took the new job?”
Motherfucker. I didn’t think he was serious about it or that he’d want to follow through, especially now that we’re fucking. That’s all this is, isn’t it?
“People who only have sex don’t meet family,” I say.
“My family is different. And I wouldn’t put it past them to invite themselves to your home if you don’t come.”
My jaw drops. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?” he deadpans.
Jesus. I mean, if he’s capable of showing up unannounced all the time, why do I think his family would act any differently?
“Please. We don’t have to be there long.”
“We say please now?” I ask, surprised.
“When the occasion calls for it. But don’t tell my family I begged you to come.”
“Is that what this is, begging?”
“I can get on my knees and show you begging in different ways if you’d like. In fact, I’d much prefer to convince you in other ways.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying not to laugh. I peek back through the living room at Bentley. Today was our day together. “I have a son; I can’t just up and leave.”
“Bring him.”
“To what, a party where dangerous people are? I’m protective of him, Dutton.”
“He’ll be fine. I can assure you he won’t be safer in any other house than the one we’re taking him to,” he says as if his reassurance is enough.
I believe him to a degree, but how can a man who doesn’t have a child understand the protective nature of a parent? Part of me is curious to see what type of people Dutton’s family are. I’m sure they’re all cold and calculated, but I have to squash that curiosity.
“No,” I tell him.
The thought of going out sounds nice, but when it comes time to leave, I don’t want to. This is a real dilemma I seem to have.
“I’m at your door already.”
This arrogant asshole.
“Okay, so you can also leave it.” I walk to the door and pull it open to find him standing there. “How long have you been there for?” I ask, still holding the phone to my ear. He has the audacity to be holding a bouquet of roses and what appears to be a box of Lego.
“Dutton!” Bentley yells from behind me.
I hang up the phone, and he pockets his.
“Are you here to bribe me and my son?”
He hands me the flowers but makes no move to touch me in front of my son, which I appreciate. He then awkwardly hands the other present to Bentley. “I don’t have wrapping paper, but when I was his age, I loved building things such as LEGO.”
I can’t help but snort and break my serious expression at his awkward attempt to connect with a child.
“Can I really take this?” Bentley asks me with wide eyes.
I nod, and he squeals as he takes it. I try to keep my smile hidden because I don’t want to reward or approve of Dutton’s attempts to wedge himself into my life.
“You shouldn’t spoil him,” I say as Bentley tries to rip open the box.
“I can tell the way you look at your son that you spoil him enough as it is. A LEGO set here or there isn’t going to hurt.” I don’t know why it takes me off guard. He’s obviously been paying attention in the few interactions he’s had with my son.
“Want to come to a party?” Dutton asks Bentley, ignoring everything we just discussed. My teeth grind. On second thought, this guy is still definitely an asshole.
“Party? I love parties,” Bentley says as he turns to me. “Can we go?”
“Nice. Use my son against me,” I say, unimpressed.
“If that’s what it takes.”
I lean down and kiss Bentley on the head. “Go and put that in your room for now. Don’t forget to say thank you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bossman Dutton!” he says before running off excitedly.