Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
We’re seated upstairs in what I’m told is the VIP area. It’s pretty swish; bloodred velvet banquet seating with tables dotted around made from golden spheres cut in half and upended. Huge, tubular chandeliers provides ambient lighting, the servers’ glittery minidresses catching the light like mirrored disco balls.
A girl in little more than a bikini, gold chains, and spiked-heel thigh-high boots struts past the table, El’s eyes, and almost his tongue, following in her wake.
I can’t help but laugh—I’m not offended—but tug self-consciously at the hem of my dress anyway. Black and short (thigh length, not ass grazing), it’s the most daring thing I own. Despite being long-sleeved, it cuts across my collarbones, and where the skirt and top meet, the fabric is slashed. You can’t really see skin unless I move. But I thought I’d looked the part—my hair tied back in what I like to call my sexy assassin ponytail, heels, and earrings that look like drops of silver rain. I thought I looked stylish and sophisticated. But I’d forgotten I live in London, not Tampa.
This dress is like a spot of Amish in a sea of Baywatch.
But who parties in a little more than a bikini?
I’m gonna need to do some window shopping to get a sense of the style vibes of London.
“The music’s banging, right?” El’s head moves in time to the beat of the ambient dance track as his gaze travels over the heads of those on the dance floor below. The executive DJ in a silver dinner jacket and jeans is doing his thing, his minions moving to the magic he weaves. Magic. Noise. I don’t really care for it. I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve been in a club, given the experience was one my parents frowned upon.
Too dangerous. Too risky. Those places aren’t exactly calming spaces, Mimi.
I don’t at all feel excitable. I also don’t think I’ve missed much.
Huh. Maybe it’s not the dancers El is looking at, but the podium girls. Podium girls dress in mirrored bikinis, athletically swinging around poles.
I feel the weight of El’s gaze and glance his way and realize I didn’t answer. “Yeah, it’s amazing.” It’s giving me a banging headache, anyway.
The music reaches a crescendo as a cloud of glittery, golden confetti flutters down from the ceiling. I’d hate to be part of the cleaning crew tomorrow. Of course, that thought slides like keys on a chain to how I’d ended up in the supply closet with Whit last night.
It was… everything.
And it was nothing.
And it’s the reason I’m here with El right now. Not for revenge or a make-the-man-jealous attempt. I guess I’m just craving company over my thoughts right now.
“Who tucks you in at night?”
“Sorry?” El’s voice pulls me from my musing.
“It’s the music.” He lifts a finger. “The lyrics, at least. You were miles away.”
“Yeah.” I smile my apology. “My mind drifted off for a minute.”
“So who tucks you in at night?”
“At the minute, my elderly Aunt Doreen.”
“What?” The word is more chuckle than anything else.
“I just mean that’s who I’m living with.” The words fall quickly as discomfort stings my cheeks. She doesn’t tuck me in, of course, but that’s not to say I don’t know that she pops her head into my room at least once during the night. I also know who put her up to it. My parents would have me wired up to a monitor 24/7 if they thought I would go for it. Like it would even stop—
Stop.
Those are not now thoughts. Those are later thoughts.
“Working for Leif must be a tough gig,” El says in a not-so-gentle segue.
“No, not really.” I tip my head to the side and give it a tiny shake. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s my brother. I love him, but he’s not exactly what you’d call relaxed.”
“I guess in his position you can’t afford to be.” But I think it’s more than the job. I can’t help but notice how often his family calls him. Not just Lavender last night. Working within hearing distance of him, I’m privy to most of his phone calls. He gets a lot of work calls, but he also gets a lot from his family. Questions to ask. Favors to grant. Help to dish out. It’s mainly from the youngest of the three, but that’s not to say El and Brin don’t cause him concern either, though it mostly relates to work.
He’s always there for them. Like last night, when his phone rang during the hottest moment of my life. Am I feeling salty about it? Yep. In a purely selfish way. The hottest moment of my life, remember? But then later, it reminded me how much I miss Connor, too.
So I got over myself. I respect that Whit has taken on that role, that he takes his responsibilities seriously. He’s the head of his family. The person they all lean on when they need a crutch.