Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I laughed, shaking my head. “Is that part of the deal now? Am I supposed to lay it on thick and make you look good?”
He scoffed at me. “I don’t need you to lay anything on thick to make me look good, sweetheart. I do that fine on my own. And trust me, if this was an actual relationship? You would be more than blissful.”
I laughed again, surprised at how much laughing I did around the billionaire who had employed me to be his girlfriend. It was nice, even if it was all fake between us.
We spent the rest of the plane ride answering more questions, all about our likes, dislikes, dreams, right down to how we met—which was an embellished version of the true story about him spotting me at the bar in his club.
I still felt very out of place, but by the time we landed, there was a common connection between Crossland and myself. The questions we asked each other had genuinely felt like a first date as opposed to a job interview, which is what it should’ve felt like, but it was easy with him. And I didn’t know if that was because the stakes were off the table, knowing this wasn’t a real relationship and I didn’t actually have to uphold anything except for what we agreed to in the contract that took the pressure off, or if it was because he was just genuinely easy to talk to.
He was smart and funny and playful and just this side of restless. The last one was the most surprising for someone with as much as he had. His wealth ensured he could do whatever he wanted to do, but I think it was the insurmountable options that he had at his fingertips that made it hard to figure out what exactly he wanted to do next.
A black SUV waited for us on the tarmac and staff loaded our bags into the back before a driver whisked us off to an equally luxurious hotel, guiding us into a penthouse suite with more than enough rooms for the two of us. I could’ve brought Brecken and Jesse and their friends if I wanted to. It was four times the size of my apartment, but I was proud of myself because I didn’t let my jaw fall on the floor.
After the staff member left our bags in the primary bedroom and headed out of the room, Crossland headed into the living space, shedding his suit jacket, and neatly laying it over the back of the couch. He poured himself a drink and then sank into the couch, leaning back against it.
I hesitated for a moment in the middle of the room, wondering where exactly I should go, but then Crossland patted the space right next to him on the couch, and I headed over, settling down beside him.
“I thought we were going shopping?” I asked, a little nervous about what I was going to wear to this wedding. The way Crossland and his friends had been dressed at the poker game, I was sure that it wouldn’t be a backyard barbeque event, which was the extent of the suitable outfits I’d packed.
“Oh,” he said, setting his drink down on the coffee table before us. “Shopping comes to us.”
I raised my eyebrows, utterly confused.
He smiled sweetly at me and glanced at his watch. “In about ten minutes,” he continued. “Our styling team will be here with options for you to pick out and try on.”
“You know,” I said, shaking my head. “I really am trying to go with the flow here, but is it showing on my face every time I’m shocked by how your world works?”
Crossland laughed, pressing his lips together. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times like he was trying to come up with the correct response.
I rolled my eyes. “Great,” I said. “I’m so going to blow this for us. No one is going to believe we’re an item. No one will believe that you’re with me—"
“Hey,” he said, reaching across the space between us. He slid a comforting hand down my arm. “That would be the other way around. No one would believe someone as amazing as you would have the patience for someone as obnoxious as me. And you’re doing great. I promise. I think it’s only me that can tell when you’re surprised by something. I’m sure no one else will be paying that close attention.”
Was he saying he was paying close attention to me? And why did that notion give me butterflies? Of course, he was paying attention to me. I was his employee, his investment, his ticket to winning a bet for fuck's sake.
“I get it,” he continued. “My world is completely ridiculous sometimes, but having the stylists come to us is just easier sometimes. It helps us avoid the circus of paparazzi or other people tracking us down.”