Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
And she hadn’t so much married him as promoted him. One night, one ceremony, and he had moved from Biloxi mid-level scum to Vegas elite.
“That’s it.” Gwen zipped the bag shut and patted it. “Take it to the car, I’ll be there shortly.”
“Certainly.” The woman’s shoes squeaked across the floor. “I’ll see you there.”
She stretched, rolling her neck and glancing at him. “You’ve got everything this weekend?”
“Of course.” He smiled at her. “Just be safe. Tell Nick I’ll break his arm if you have so much as a mosquito bite.”
She poked him as she walked by. “Not fair. I’m going to have a mosquito bite.”
“Maybe I just want to break his arm.” He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen. “When are you coming back?”
“Tuesday night, I think.” She opened the fridge. “Any more information on that small casino you looked at?”
He settled in at the island and watched as she brought out a bottled water. “Nothing yet. They aren’t interested in selling, so financials are an unknown. I’m keeping my eye on it but may have to move on to something else.”
She stuck the water bottle into her purse and headed for the elevator. “Well, don’t work too hard. And tell Meghan I said hi.” He scowled, and her eyes widened in faux innocence. “What?”
“You aren’t supposed to know about Meghan.”
“Oh please.” She waved a hand dismissively at the mention of the mistress. “My spies hear things. Just like yours do.”
“You can tell your spies that Meghan isn’t worth watching. That’s old news.” Old news as of yesterday, the blonde taking the news with a curse-filled rant that had stopped abruptly with her parting gift—diamond earrings that had made her shriek with pleasure and scamper off to pack.
“That’s a shame.” She scrunched up her nose in the way that always broke his composure, and he smiled despite himself. “Just don’t have too much fun while I’m gone. I’m still the queen of this castle, you know.”
“You’ll always be queen.” He stopped her in the elevator’s entranceway and turned her to him. “Now be safe.”
“You’ll always be my queen.” She amended his words quietly, and he watched her eyes, saw the way they flicked down to the floor before coming back to his. “That’s what you usually say.”
Fuck. He smiled, a gesture of reassurance and apology. “Of course. You know you’re my queen.”
She lifted a brow, and he could hear the words she didn’t speak, words that hung in the air between them, suspended in time, even as they said their goodbyes, kissed, and she stepped into the elevator. Am I?
She was. They were bound by more than just ten years together, by more than friendship and love. They were bound by a thousand layers of contracts and holdings, of investments, debts, partnerships, and legalities. They were bound by the wrath of Robert Hawk and Dario’s addiction to a heartbeat and power.
She was—had to be, his queen. Thinking about anything else, about the possibility of anything else, was insane.
* * *
BELL
“Talk to me about null and alternative hypotheses.”
I rolled over, resting my head on Ian’s stomach and groaned. “Oh my god. I’m sleeping with a nerd.”
He laughed, and the abs against my cheek bounced a little. Okay, so he was a hot nerd.
“I hypothesize that further talk of hypotheses will nullify your chance of a second round,” I mumbled.
“I hypothesize that you are going to flunk the final if you don’t actually study with me.”
I groaned louder and rolled over, scooting up his body until I was face to face with him. “I thought that’s why I was sleeping with the instructor. So I didn’t have to study.”
“Oh no,” he said gravely, his adorable forehead pinching. “Fuck buddies have to study. Girlfriends are the ones that get a free pass.”
“What?!” I pouted. “That doesn’t seem fair.” I ran my finger along a ridge of his abs.
He choked out a laugh. “Is it that painful of an idea?”
“Being a girlfriend?” I grimaced. “It’s not you,” I hurried to say. “Any girl would love to date a...” I held up a finger and concentrated. “Let me remember how my roommate put this. A… ‘hot, smart guy with a job and a delicious Irish accent’.”
“You forgot to mention my incredible bedroom skills,” he pointed out.
“Yeah. Thankfully she isn’t aware of those.” I rolled off of him and stood, stretching. “I’ve got to run.”
“Wait.” He sat up and caught hold of my hand, pulling me back onto the bed. “I’ll drop the dating talk.”
I smiled. “Thank you. Being a girlfriend…”
“I know. It’s not what you want.”
He kissed me and then changed the subject, dragging down my shorts, pulling up my shirt, and unhooking my bra. He slid his fingers into my panties, and I closed my eyes, a moan falling from my lips. I arched into his touch and tried, to the best of my ability, to push Dario Capece from my mind. This was what I wanted in my life. No complications. Fantastic sex. Work. School. My friends.