Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
She could obviously see me trying to sift through all my obligations, because she gave me a knowing smile and turned to face me fully.
“It’s the charity auction to benefit domestic abuse survivors.”
It all fell into place then. I gave her a nod and a grateful smile. “Of course. Thank you.”
“Your tux will be at your residence Saturday afternoon, and I can have Neil either come into the office Friday evening or have him stop by your residence Saturday morning for a trim?”
I gave her another grateful smile. “Whatever works best for him. Just let me know where to be and when.”
“Of course, Mr. Mathis.” She exited and shut my office door quietly behind her.
I sat there for a moment and closed my eyes, tilting my head back and resting it against the chair.
I was exhausted—not just physically, but mentally. Being the CEO of a multi-million-dollar advertising company gave me a cushy lifestyle, notoriety. But it was also one that was very lonely, very isolating. It didn’t matter that I was surrounded by people, that they kissed my ass because they thought I could give them something, because they wanted something.
And they always wanted something.
And romantic relationships? Yeah, those were nonexistent, not just because of my busy schedule, but because people were nothing more than users. I experienced that firsthand, saw it every single fucking day.
And because of that, I didn’t date, hadn’t for a very long time. Women didn’t see me as somebody they could spend the rest of their life with, as a companion. They saw me as a bank, saw who I was connected with, socialized with. They saw what I could give them. And that’s how it had always been. That’s how it probably always would be.
So I’d probably be single for the rest of my life, not giving myself or my heart to anyone, because the damn truth was, I couldn’t trust anyone to be sincere and genuine with me. I’d only ever be a deep pocket they could reach into.
I turned in my chair and looked out the window at the cityscape, the towering buildings in front of me, a bustling street below. The city was packed, congested. Citizens were always angry, always in a hurry. No one ever stopped and just thought about how grateful they should be for what they had.
You didn’t need money or status to be happy. And as the years passed, as my success grew, I saw that so profoundly it took my breath away at times.
I knew what you really needed to be complete.
Love.
You just needed love. And the older I got, the less that notion seemed like it would be my reality.
Chapter Three
Beatrix
The first thing I thought when I looked at the dress was how much skin I’d be showing. In fairness it wasn’t even that much, but for me and how modest I normally was, it was almost too much. It was far more than I’d probably ever shown in my entire life. But it was gorgeous, this emerald-green, floor-length dress with beading around the bodice, the material no doubt forming around every curve and hollow of my body, showcasing every nook I didn’t want seen.
I was a little hesitant. I wasn’t some svelte model with a perfect form. I was just like any other normal, average woman, thicker in places I didn’t want to be thick in, with bumps and blemishes, and a self-esteem that could use a good boost.
But I couldn’t deny that the very feminine part of me wanted to wear it, wanted to feel pretty.
“Beatrix, I know what you’re thinking.”
I blinked and looked up at Patrice, who watched me with skepticism.
“What?”
She lifted an eyebrow, and I gave her a sheepish smile. “You’re thinking about backing out, that the dress isn’t something you can pull off, but that’s where you’re wrong.”
Patrice had been my friend for so long I couldn’t picture my life without her in it. Not only was she genuinely sweet, but she told me how it was, not mincing words, knowing I appreciated honesty more than anything else. I didn’t need somebody to sugarcoat things for me. I didn’t need my ego stroked.
“That is what I was thinking,” I muttered, my focus on the dress.
“No one will know you’re you until after the event.”
I felt my brows knit and glanced up at her. “What do you mean?”
She turned and grabbed a small paper bag off the table, one that had the boutique’s name embossed on the front in silver lettering. She reached inside and pulled out a black, gorgeously beaded mask. It was the kind people wore to a mascaraed ball.
“Um,” I said as she handed it over and I took it. I stared at it for long moments, running my fingers along the satin and crystals. “So the auction is really going there, huh?”