Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 811(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 39
LYLA
When we get to his building, there’s a group of guys waiting for the elevator. It’s pretty clear they’ve been day drinking. That, or they’re all insane. In my head, I’m stomping my feet. The last thing I need is to deal with annoying, overgrown frat boys. Why, why, why does the universe do these things to me? I avoid eye contact at all costs, as I step forward and push the already-lit button twice. I know it won’t help, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something. Two of them look at me when I pull away from the button. I instantly get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I silently pray that for all our sakes, they don’t speak to me. I look at the other two elevators and see their out of order signs, so we’re just waiting for the one in front of me. Lovely. Behind me, there’s a guy bragging about how much ass he got last night, and another egging him on and telling him that it’s what he’s supposed to do at his bachelor party.
Disgust curls in my stomach. I glance back, because I’m too curious not to, and see one wearing a pin that says GROOM in the middle of words I don’t want to concentrate on reading. He’s now talking about the blonde who sucked his dick. I look at his face, then his friends, then cross my arms and turn around again. I fucking hate people. The feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach gets worse. I hope the bride is getting railed by a guy who looks like David Beckham or Idris Elba, and moves his hips like Channing Tatum. Maybe she’s having a foursome. God, I hope she is. I wish I could call her and tell her to run the other way. I glance to my right and see Lachlan’s fists curling. I step forward and hit the button two more times.
“I don’t think that makes it move any faster,” one of the guys says.
Even though I have ten comebacks for that, I ignore him. The same guy gasps loudly and turns to Lach, whose jaw has been ticking since we left the rooftop. If he grinds it anymore, he’s going to need a dentist.
“Heeeyyy, Duke, right? Lachlan Duke?” the guy says. Lach just looks at him, and because the guy is too drunk to understand that nothing about his face says that he wants to speak to someone, he keeps going. “Damn, man, why’d you retire? You were the best center we’ve had in a while and the best fighter.”
Some others jump in to agree with drunk guy number one. I cover my face with both hands. Kill me now. I’m about to take the stairs just to not deal with any of them. Not that I know what floor we’re going to. I hear Lachlan respond accordingly, telling him some bullshit about the family business. They ask more questions. The elevator finally — finally — arrives. Lach pulls me to his side as we step in, and I stand as close as I can to him, so I don’t even brush up against the guy next to me. I don’t know any of them, so I can’t be sure, but I think he may be the drunkest.
There are so many of us in here that we’re like sardines in a can, shoulder to shoulder with no room to move. One of them manages to hit the numbers. Another one makes the sardines in a can joke. Everyone keeps talking as if we’re in an open space and not stuck in a steel tube. I try to look for the sign to see if we’re at the weight capacity and about to be in a real-life Tower of Terror situation. I picture it happening and quickly refute it. I cannot die with these fucking morons.
“So where are you from, and what do I have to do to see you again?” the drunk guy to my right slurs, his beer breath hitting the side of my face.
I know he’s only speaking to me because he’s drunk, I’m the only woman in the elevator, and judging by their little bachelor party shenanigans, he probably thinks he’s picking me up, but it doesn’t make it less uncomfortable. I keep my eyes forward and bite my tongue.
“Sweetheart,” the guy starts up again. “I just as—”
“Okay, fuck this,” Lachlan mutters and I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath. “If one of you touches her, I will kill you. If you flirt with her, I will kill you,” Lach says, the growl in his low menacing voice halting their conversations. “Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even fucking think about her.”