Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
That was the beauty of it, I guessed. Either way, there’d be fireworks. And I’d always loved fireworks.
10
PEARL
The sound of chairs wood farting as they were being scooted in all over the large room was deafening. Just about every Pollard employee must’ve been here, and we were all taking up spots at little round tables in the hotel’s conference room. As far as rooms went, this one was impressive, with a seemingly endless expanse of windows leading right up to the a-frame ceiling, which was lined with smooth, pale logs. With the wildlife-themed furniture and images, it had a very cozy upscale lodge atmosphere.
I was making a point of studying it all because it saved me from having to look at my dinner guests.
Fate seemed to have a sense of humor, because our round table just happened to be occupied by the Pollard brothers and my sister. I guess they figured it would be rude not to invite Lizzie’s sister to sit with them. Frankly, I wished they had just been rude, because I would’ve happily sat with Marley and some of my other loose work acquaintances over this. At least I wouldn’t be at risk of having to talk about our relationship.
“So,” Jonas said. He looked immaculate, as usual, in a powder blue suit with a white undershirt that screamed “I’ve been rich my whole life and wouldn’t hesitate to use a hundred dollar bill as toilet paper in a pinch–if I had to suffer the indignity of wiping my own ass, that is.” Any statement he made would obviously be followed by that classic rich person laugh. The one that was always too loud and somehow made it seem like they were visualizing a mob of peasants at their feet begging for scraps.
Ugh. Lizzie really knew how to pick them.
“So,” Dean countered. Oh God, Dean. I wished he’d just sit there and look pretty. I didn’t know the man very well, but I already learned he only made things worse when he opened that beautiful mouth of his.
Jonas smiled. Maxwell and Alec looked distracted. Alec was showing Maxwell something on his phone as a woman in a white button down moved around the table, filling our waters from a fancy, chilled glass bottle and making minute adjustments to our silverware. Fancy, fancy. Dean noticed me watching and gave me a nudge and a wink. I caught myself smiling back at him just in time to wipe the look from my face and glare instead.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jonas said. He was speaking to Dean, and there was a glint of something in his eye. Benevolence? Or was that malice? Could rich people smell fear? If they could, I was sure I reeked like a three-week old burrito. “First, my brother tells me all about the business genius he has a consulting contract with him. It’s Dean Slater this, Dean Slater that. He thinks very highly of you. But I also hear from Pearl that you’re some sort of massage artist in your spare time. Is that right?”
I braced myself for Dean’s response. I half expected him to laugh and put me on the spot, but he slid his arm around my shoulder–apparently already forgetting the “no touching” rule. He looked over at me and smiled. “Have you been bragging about me again?” He gave my cheeks a little pinch and leaned in to bump his nose to mine like we were the picture of a doting, sickeningly sweet couple. “You’re adorable. But yeah, I have been studying the way of the hand, you could say.”
I was somewhere between laughter and mortal embarrassment, but it only got worse when his weird response caught the attention of Maxwell and Alec. They looked up at us. Lizzie was leaning on Jonas’ shoulder, watching me, even though Dean was the one doing the talking.
“The way of the hand?” Maxwell asked. “We’ve worked together for months, Dean. Why am I only now hearing of this?”
“You know how it is. If people know you’re a massage expert, they’re always asking for massages at the worst time. Plus, I don’t just carry my hot stones and kit around with me everywhere I go,” he shrugged easily. “I’m sure you understand.”
I had no idea what deep corner of his perky, toned ass he was pulling all this from, but I wished he’d just keep it simple. If I’d learned anything in my anxiety-ridden ramblings about Dean to friends, family, and co-workers, it was that complicated lies were bad lies. Simple lies? Those were the good ones.
“Is that how you two met?” Jonas asked. “While you were practicing the way of the hand?”
“That’s right,” I said, jumping in before Dean could make this worse. Part of me wondered if he was enjoying this, and I sincerely hoped not. I had a feeling Dean was most dangerous when he was having fun, so I needed to find a way to make this boring, and fast. “We met at a party and the massage stuff came up. I was really stressed and he offered to give me a demo massage. Five minutes and I was sold.” I shrugged. “Sometimes you just know.”