Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I close my eyes as tight as I can and bury my face in the pillow in hopes of going back to sleep. I don’t have to think when I’m asleep. Even with my lids closed, I can see light coming through the narrow gap in the heavy curtains, but it’s not very bright. It’s still early. And it’s not like I have anywhere to be.
At least that’s what I think until the door to the suite opens in the other room.
I freeze solid, a deer in headlights. My heart starts racing sickeningly fast, and it only gets worse when footsteps ring out. Mason? Maybe Griffin, since I doubt Mason has the time to pay a visit. He’s much too important for that.
“Room service.” There’s a soft knock on the closed door between the living room and the bedroom. “I’ve left your tray on the coffee table.” I don’t recognize the voice as belonging to either of the men I expected.
“Thank you.” I wait for their footsteps to fade away and for the outer door to click shut, then count to thirty in my head before venturing out of the bed. I can’t lie: the idea of breakfast is enough to drag me out of my cocoon, especially when I remember how fantastic dinner was. Whoever they have working in their kitchen knows what they’re doing.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, I risk peeking into the living room. Sure enough, there’s a tray on the coffee table and two dishes with silver domes on top. I lift them and groan happily at the sight of thick, fluffy French toast, bacon, and sausage. The second plate holds scrambled eggs and luscious fresh fruit. There’s also a carafe of coffee and a plastic bottle of juice. They thought of everything.
I’ve never seen strawberries so red and ripe before—I can’t help but snatch one from the plate and pop it into my mouth. My eyes close at the explosion of flavor that coats my tongue. I didn’t know a simple strawberry could be so delicious. It’s like living in a whole different world.
I’ve barely sat down to make a pig of myself when the lock clicks again. And again, I freeze, this time halfway through chewing a mouthful of bacon. I can’t swallow, though. My throat’s too tight.
The door opens slowly, and I forget to breathe until a familiar blond head pokes through the opening.
And right away, I want to wither and die in the clothes I wore to work yesterday. They’re nothing when compared to Natalie’s designer suit and the mile-high stiletto heels that click across the floor when she steps into the suite. “Hi,” she ventures in a soft voice. “I just found out you’re staying with us, and I thought you might like some fresh clothes.” She crosses the room and leaves a small pile of black fabric on the arm of the sofa. “I figured leggings might be a little more forgiving than jeans since I don’t know your exact size. Although, I think we all know you can’t go by sizes, anyway. At least not when you’re a woman, right? Men can walk into a store, find their size, and off they go.”
Is her little small talk supposed to make her seem more human? Because from where I’m sitting, she is a goddess, and I am merely a slug who hasn’t brushed her hair today. Natalie’s hair is perfectly coiffed the way it was when we first met. Not a strand is out of place. She’s the kind of woman I’ve always wanted to be and knew I could never even imitate.
“Could you use a little company?” She eyes one of the armchairs positioned at opposite ends of the coffee table. My mouth is too full to speak so I lift a shoulder. I mean, she belongs here more than I do. She’s... whatever she is to Mason. His assistant, he called her. I have to wonder if that’s code for something else he didn’t want to admit at the time.
If she’s his assistant, it’s interesting that he didn’t tell her I was staying here. “Thank you for the clothes. I’m starting to feel a little... gross.”
Her crimson lips twitch as she gracefully arranges herself in the chair. Or maybe I’m making that up in my head. Maybe she just plopped down like any other person, but I’m so awestruck by her that everything seems more interesting than it is. “No problem. Sorry, Mason doesn’t think about things like that.”
They say curiosity killed the cat. That’s never stopped me. My curiosity is going to eat me alive if I don’t ask. “I guess it can’t be easy, working for a man like him. He’s pretty important and everything. I’m sure he’s got a lot on his mind.”
“He usually does, yes.”