Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I’m not entirely sure what it’s about myself, if I’m being honest.
Besides the fact that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I sent her off drunk and then saw her name in the news the following morning, victim of a tragic accident.
“Just be safe, Miss Sullivan. Go home and sober up. I’ll see you for the meeting on Monday.” I arch a brow. “Don’t cancel this time.”
I can’t read the look Marissa gives me. At once hostile and oddly broken. Vulnerable.
Like a little girl who’s been hurt so deeply she can’t comprehend it, and she hates it and wants to beg the person who did it to take it back.
I don’t think that look is entirely for me.
But I wonder who she’s thinking of right now—whoever it is, she seems like she might shatter.
I’m not surprised when she draws defensive armor around herself, shrugging and turning her back to me again.
“Go to hell, you prick.”
I don’t respond.
There’s no point fencing words with someone in this condition when she won’t even remember this in the morning.
There’s little time for anything else, anyway.
The brand-new, sleek white Acura depicted in the app pulls up to the curb. I cross to the passenger window and lean in, offering Marissa’s keys and giving the driver strict instructions.
The driver seems used to picking up drunk riders.
Once I’ve explained the situation and noted she’ll provide her address, I lean back with a murmur of gratitude and open the rear door for Marissa in pointed silence.
She ignores me a second longer, but apparently she still has the sense not to embarrass herself in front of a stranger. After she’s made her point, she steps over to the car, nearly misses the curb in her heels, grabs the car door with a squeal, and shoots me a look that reminds me of a cat telling me I didn’t just see that.
“Asshole,” she clips, like I’m the one who tripped her, before tucking herself into the back seat.
“You’re welcome.” I shut the door and wave them off.
The last I see of Marissa is a petulant glare as she flings herself against the car door and curls up in a surprisingly small, girlish bundle for someone so drunkenly pissed.
Fuck this.
Why am I so worried about her when she’s half the reason I’ve had to turn my life and Elle’s upside down?
I tilt my head back, looking up at the distinctive shape the Space Needle makes against Seattle’s cloud-lit night sky.
Elle’s still up there, waiting for me.
Her pull is stronger than it should be, this need for her company to ease this hollow ache inside me.
It’s an old pain. A wound that never heals, but I never expected Marissa Sullivan to be the one to rip it open and leave me bleeding again.
I shake my thoughts off and head back inside, out of the cold.
The chill’s worn off by the time the elevator lets me off at the top, and I make my way back to the lounge and our table.
Elle’s settled quietly with her pretty legs crossed, resting her chin in her hand while she looks out over the city. Just seeing her there, with the overhead lights picking up the faint hint of shimmering dust on her bare shoulders and the matching gloss of her nails, solidifies something inside me.
She’s always so self-deprecating.
Always hiding behind the splashy colors she wears, less like fashion and more like camouflage.
I don’t think she realizes just how goddamned beautiful she is.
And it’s the sort of beauty that’s almost frightening because it seems so fragile.
Blink, and it could be gone.
Which just makes a man want to hold on even harder.
Yeah, I’m full of strange thoughts tonight. I try to rein them in as I slip back to my seat.
“I see the waiter hasn’t brought our food yet,” I say.
Elle turns her gaze to me, her hazel eyes less tiger orange tonight and more a shade of gold that could make a man stupid as hell.
A small smile flickers over her lips.
“She’s suing you, and you’re worried about her driving drunk.” No BS, just straight to the point. I like that. “You actually paid for her Uber and her tab?”
I nod slowly.
It’s embarrassing when it’s all laid out.
I shrug. “She can pay for it out of the legal fees when we win the suit.”
Elle’s smile widens, her eyes glittering. “Another joke. That’s two now.”
“Mmm.”
Was I joking? I don’t even know.
I don’t feel much like laughing right now.
Now it’s my turn to look out over the broad expanse of the city.
Maybe searching the lights for something to hold on to, just so this feeling doesn’t swallow me whole and ruin what could be a pleasant evening of make-believe.
Elle’s soft voice chases me into the dark places my mind wants to occupy.
“August . . . ?” she asks, reaching across the table to touch my wrist. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”