Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Go away,” I grumble. “You’re annoying.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things by chicks, but never annoying.”
“Well, if you’re using words like ‘chicks’ to describe the women you encounter, I seriously don’t understand how you haven’t been called worse than annoying.”
“I like a woman who can verbally spar with me.”
“Lovely. Bye.”
The heat of his stare burning into the side of my head makes me fidget. I try not to squirm or even glance his way. Minutes pass by as we wait for class to begin. I’m almost able to pretend he doesn’t exist until he reaches over and grasps the back of my chair. A shriek of surprise bursts out of me when he starts dragging me closer.
“What are you doing?” I snap at him. “Are you insane?”
“Nah, that’s my brother.” He flashes me a wolfish grin but it quickly melts away as a glimpse of some unidentifiable emotion passes over his features. “I told you. I’m not letting up until you give me what I want.”
The gall of this guy.
If Dad knew I had a stalker, he’d flip out. Guys like Ford Mann are no match for my father. Dad’s unlimited financial resources give him an epic position of power. It makes him a formidable opponent.
But, even as annoying as Ford is, I would never wish my father’s wrath on him. My sister is subjected to it daily and it’s a nightmare.
“Coffee?” I mutter. “You’re still on that?”
“Yep.”
“I already said no.”
“I’m waiting for a yes, Laundry.”
Pushy bastard.
“Not happening, Chevy.”
A laugh bursts out of him, teasing one from my own lips. Ugh. He’s bothersome. I don’t like his laugh, so why am I softly laughing too?
“I’m growing on you,” he says in a smug, satisfied tone.
“Yeah, like a tumor,” I throw back.
“Look how much fun we’re having.” He waits until I peek his way to flash me a crooked grin that heats my blood. “See? You’re not like them.”
I follow the bored gesture of his hand to a few girls openly ogling him. They’re all sexy and quirky and young. Dressed comfortably and casually. Obviously enjoying their college life. Those girls are everything I’m not.
And while probably their same age, I feel like I’ve lived decades—an old, weary soul trapped in a young adult’s body.
“You make me work for it.” He leans forward, his grin turning boyish. “I like the chase.”
A thrill shoots down my spine. The idea of this big, beautiful man chasing me anywhere is almost too much to think about. It’s a moot point anyway. I can’t fantasize about some hot, obnoxious Jersey Shore wannabe frat boy when I have much more important things to worry about.
Like keeping Dad happy so he’ll stay off Della’s back.
And attempting to socialize with his fancy colleagues.
Despite my original fears of going to college and leaving Della to do so, it’s actually a good thing. I might be able to meet some people who could help me if ever I needed it. I’ll also have access to the university’s media center. I can do all the research and planning I want for me and Della’s future without fear of Dad spying on me.
The last thing he needs to discover is my dying need to escape him for good.
But, at school, I can do it safely.
Where would I take her? She’d love going to the beach. Or, better yet, someplace with animals she could visit. It’d have to be a small town where we could disappear into. I’d need fake identification. I’m not even sure how I’d go about obtaining something like that. Planning an escape—when you have to hide your tracks from your evil father and while you have no access to money—is slightly overwhelming.
Every time I think about running away, I wind up going in circles in my head, never coming up with something solid and actionable.
I bet Ford is a man of action. I bet he’d know exactly what to do in my situation. My heart squeezes as I wonder if I could eventually become close enough to anyone—like Ford or someone less douchey—here at college that I could confide in.
“This all isn’t some effort to lure you into my bed,” I tell him in exasperation. “It’s to push you away indefinitely. I’m not a hurdle to jump.”
“And yet I still want to jump you…”
Another stupid laugh escapes me and he joins in.
“Ford—”
“It’s okay to secretly like me,” he says as he reaches up to toy with a strand of my hair. “I think we could be great friends.”
Friends.
The word almost seems foreign.
According to Dad, friends are people who want to use you in order to gain something for their benefit. They use people like him for his money and means and access to information. And by default, because of who I am, they’ll use me too.
Does Ford know I’m the heiress to a tech fortune?