Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Having done all I can do to disconnect myself from Tyler, I hurry to the entrance of the rooftop entertainment area and pause a moment as I will my heart to calm. Only then do I rejoin the party. Once I’m in the midst of the festivities, as expected, there are still plenty of guests to be entertained and I had no business going home. I suppose Tyler simply believed I needed an escape, which he offered me in more than one way this night. My poor judgment actually earned me both an escape via an orgasm, and a prison in the aftermath I can never wash away, even when I no longer smell of the utterly sexy scent of Tyler Hawk. Nor do I think I will forget how good he was with his tongue.
Lord, help me, once again, with this line of thinking.
A waiter passes by, and I grab a glass of champagne and manage one sip when I end up chatting with the manager of a highly successful music producer. Patty is an attractive dirty blonde, in her mid-thirties, and quite likable. I have nothing to do professionally with Patty or her client, but we’ve chatted and enjoyed a few laughs together on occasion as we do now.
I’ve barely regained my composure after she’s told me a story about a radio show she visited, and the DJ who pulled his pants down to show her his cock tattoo when I ask, “Was it at least an impressive tattoo?”
She snorts champagne. “No one but you would ask that. It was quite impressive, but he was married. I suggested he show it to his wife.”
“Good decision,” I conclude, when the sense of being watched has my gaze jerking right, only to find Dash and Allie watching me. My heart sinks. They were not supposed to be here tonight, and now I’m caged in more ways than one. I touch Patty’s arm, instantly hyperaware of my touchy-feely self being a big fail with Tyler. “My brother is here,” I say. “I need to go talk Hollywood with him.”
Patty’s eyes go wide and whip around the room until they land on Dash. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, refixing her attention on me. “I’m a huge fan. Can I meet him?”
Pride never fails me when people, especially famous people, react this way to Dash. “Of course,” I assure her, motioning for her to follow me.
We head in that direction, and I’m actually fairly relieved with the potential distraction Patty offers from any conversation I might have with my brother. If I spend too much time with Dash, I’m going to blurt out details on the contractual dispute I’m having with the studio over his unsigned Hollywood contract. He will, in turn, react negatively and pull out of the whole deal and in Hollywood, that kind of action could end the project with everyone, even a project this magnificent. And that’s not good for Dash. I don’t care about me. I care about being his sister and failing him. Representing him has been a good and bad thing. I was able to hide his addiction to underground fighting and help aid his recovery, but I also feel tremendous pressure to never fail him.
I worry I’m about to do just that.
I worry he knows me well enough to read me like a room of his readers. I mean the entire reason my brother ended up famous was that he took real-life experiences at the FBI, hunting a known assassin, and turned them into fictional genius. He’s smart and observant. He can read his sister. Patty and I join Dash and Allie, and I waste no time introducing them. It’s not long until Patty is in full-on, drill-the-author-with-ten-thousand-questions mode.
Allie leaves Dash to his fangirl and creates a separate group with me. Allie is a brunette, beautiful, and similar in looks to the Allison who is now gone, killed by Tyler’s father. She almost ended up another victim when her life mimicked Allison’s to such an extent that she started looking for her. It sounds like a fictional storyline, but Dash’s assassin keeps tabs on him, and that means his love life. The assassin who inspired his books saved Allie’s life.
And killed Jack Hawk.
“You didn’t come over for waffles this weekend,” Allie points out. “I’m spoiled. I’m used to our weekend chats and the amazing waffles you make us.”
It’s a thing I started with Dash last year. I bought him a waffle maker and I show up every weekend to ensure it doesn’t get dusty. It’s been surprisingly fun to include Allie. She makes Dash happy. She makes him better. She gave him the strength to walk away from addiction and deal with his pain, which has a lot to do with loss and death on his side of the family.