Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Two. One for me. The other for the main office.”
“Got it.” She continued to set everything inside, careful not to mess up the order. “I liked the chapters you wrote. I thought being a part of the writing process might ruin the story for me, but you’re that good of a writer.”
She already had the job and she already had me, so her compliment was genuine, but even then, I didn’t know what to say in response. “I need you to schedule the housekeeper later tomorrow, and every Wednesday from this point forward.”
She stopped stacking the papers in the crate so she could look at me. “Why?”
“I want the penthouse to myself until ten.”
“Oh…are you working from home?”
“No.” I set down my pencil and abandoned my work for the evening. It was time to go home, enjoy the small window of time I had with her. “I thought we could get breakfast and spend some time together.”
Emerson stared at me like she didn’t understand a word I said. “I don’t understand… You have work.”
I shrugged. “I’d like to spend more time with you. And I know having a few hours in the evenings isn’t really an option for us, so…”
“Derek… That’s so sweet, but I can’t let you lose those hours at work. I can work something out with my family to spend some extra time here later in the evenings. Please don’t rearrange your schedule for me.”
“It’s just a few hours, baby. And the guys already said it was fine. We’ll work a couple hours later on Wednesday. I think they mostly agreed because they’d get dinner for free.” I smiled slightly because that was just how men were, me included.
“You told them to work late so you could spend time with your girlfriend?” she asked incredulously.
“I didn’t say it like that…”
Guilt moved into her gaze, like she truly felt terrible for the change in my schedule. It was all happening because of her daughter, something she shouldn’t feel guilty about. She was just being a good mother, not running off with some guy and leaving her daughter to the care of her grandparents.
“It’s already done. Don’t worry about it.”
“My job is to make your life easier, not more complicated.”
“And you do that—as my assistant. And your job as my girlfriend is to make me happy—and this will make me happier.” All my free time was maxed out working, so I didn’t see the harm in taking a few hours for myself once a week. “I thought we could go to breakfast. That can be our weekly thing.”
“Well, that’s really sweet. I don’t know what to say.”
I didn’t know what to say either. I got out of my chair and started to pack my things.
She picked up the crate. “I’ll put this in your executive office on the way and take care of those copies first thing in the morning.”
I took the crate from her and carried it to the cart. “You think we could have dinner with my friends on Friday night?”
She considered the request, probably thinking about what Lizzie was doing that evening. “Yeah, that should be fine.”
“Great. They’ll love you.”
“You think?” she asked as she walked beside me in her heels.
“Definitely.”
“I don’t know…I’m not a supermodel or anything.” It didn’t seem like a jab, just a moment of insecurity.
I set the crate in the back of the golf cart. “That’s debatable.”
She chuckled at my compliment.
I turned back to her.
“Supermodels don’t have stretch marks and thick thighs.”
“And they don’t have hearts of gold, kindness, and integrity either, at least not in my experience. But you have all those things. You’re the version of a supermodel that I want…and you’re perfect.”
I woke up at the same time that I did every day, hit the gym, and completed my workout before I showered and got ready for the day. But instead of having breakfast, I skipped it. She let herself in at the usual time she would meet me at the curb.
Her hair was curled and over one shoulder, and she was in a long-sleeved sweater dress with thigh-high black boots.
My gaze lingered for a while, and I reconsidered the whole breakfast idea.
She set her purse on the entry table and approached me at the dining table, smiling as she looked at me in the morning light, like it was the weekend and we had all day just to be together. We’d never been in the penthouse at this time with no immediate deadline to leave. She came closer to me then moved into my chest slowly, like she wasn’t used to being able to touch me at this hour. Her eyes dropped down to look at my chest as her palms flattened against my body. “Morning.”
My hands snaked around her body, and I held her in my grasp, feeling the fabric of the dress under my fingertips, the deep curve in her back, inhaling her perfume and her infectious energy. I looked down into her face, seeing her thick, dark eyelashes, the beautiful color of her lips. “Morning.” I’d never wanted Fleur or anyone else the way I wanted Emerson. My breath was never taken away when they stepped into the room. Whenever it was just the two of us, I was more aware of my beating heart, the way it reverberated against my chest and my entire body.