Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Sounds like Fancy’s hit the ground running. In the kitchen I find him seated at the island, cell phone to his ear, looking perfect as always. Before him is a plate loaded with scrabbled eggs and some kind of brown toast. I would expect nothing less.
“Did you hear what I said?”
I did and this Cedric sounds like a serious pain in the ass. He turns and takes me in––very obviously, I might add.
You saw it all last night, dude.
“I gotta go, Ced. No more nightclub brawls, ya feel me? Okay, later.” Placing the phone down, he leans back in the stool and crosses his arms, his mouth pressed tight. I need about a gallon of caffeine before I can even begin to decipher that look.
“‘Sup,” I grumble. My sleep mask slips down and I push it higher up my forehead. No response from him. Maybe he’s not a morning person, either. Maybe Cedric took everything he had to give.
In the massive refrigerator I find all sorts of healthy food. I push that crap aside and locate my Monster drink and frozen waffles. After dropping two of those suckers in the toaster oven, I pop open my drug of choice. Still no word from the man wearing the subtle frown behind me. I can, however, feel his relentless stare singeing the fine hairs on the back of my neck. Turning, I lean back against the counter and meet his examining gaze squarely.
“What?”
“Are we going to talk about it?”
“Talk about the fact that you’re a filthy peeping Tom?” I shrug, indicating my total lack of interest in the topic. “I don’t think there’s much to say. Except that I better not find any videos of my bald eagle on some obscure Ukrainian porn site, or we’re gonna have a problem.”
“I wasn’t…” His rebuttal fades into a tired sigh. “I specifically told you to close both doors.”
I go with this just for fun. “Whatever, Tommy McPervertpants.” He glowers and I hide my amusement by taking a big gulp of my Monster drink. The toaster signals that my waffles are ready.
“That’s your breakfast?”
He’s back to watching me intently. As soon as the caffeine hit my bloodstream, I figured out what that look on his face is. Equal parts displeasure and fascination. As if I’m some strange breed of extinct, scaly beast that’s lumbered into his cave and left a trail of slime in its wake. I take a big bite of the waffle and wave the sucker around.
“These aren’t even gluten free.”
“You shouldn’t eat that junk. I made scrambled eggs and millet bread toast. Help yourself.”
Millet. Bread. Toast. Lovely.
“Thanks, but I’ll stick with the junk.”
He frowns at this. Apparently my diet does not meet his Holy Fanciness’ standards. “Be at my office around noon and I’ll introduce you to David Pitt.”
“Is this really necessary? If you would just call Parker and get a statement from him––”
“David is one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the city,” he says, interrupting. “Let’s leave the lawyering to him. I won’t risk anything going sideways with this case.”
He won’t risk it. Mmmkay.
His cell phone rings and he glances at the screen. Lips thinning, he answers it. “Andi, I’ll be there in twenty…I don’t give a shit, tell Jerome I’ll call him when I get an offer in writing…yeah, you can quote me.” His gaze cuts to me, eyes running up and down my body, momentarily pausing on my oversized t-shirt. “I gotta go.”
After hanging up, he makes his way around the island to where I’m leaning next to the sink. Mr. Perfect rinses his dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. He’s standing awfully close. As a small woman, I place serious value on personal space and this man is all up in it. Like way up in it. He is definitely encroaching if I can feel the heat radiating from him on the side of my face, or the fine wool of his suit against the bare skin of my upper arm. And even though it’s slowly making me mental, I don’t budge.
“The new contractor should be here in an hour. I would appreciate it if you could let him in.”
The opium cloud also known as his scent wraps around me and my eyelids get a little droopy. And yet––I don’t budge.
“Sure,” I say, staring blindly ahead. Whatever game he’s playing isn’t going to work. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m going to be cowed by a pretty piece of man meat with a cute bubble butt. Also, I’ve decided to go on the counter attack. If he gets any closer, I’m going to accidentally step on his anklebone. I’m wearing my poop slippers, probably won’t do much damage, but it’s not like I can shiv the guy. That wouldn’t be right.
He looks down, his focus entirely on my nonexistent boobs. “Nice shirt.”