Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Uh, right.”
“Keep talking. I want to hear everything before I have to get my ass in gear and get ready for work.”
I opened my mouth and closed it, my gaze fixed on a stain on the carpet. I couldn’t leave Winnie hanging without explanation. He didn’t do silence and if he sensed that I was suddenly uneasy, he’d want to know why.
So I shared a teensy bit and yawned a lot, promising to call when we had more time to chat.
I melted against the wall, my thoughts hazy and unsure. Kind of like the wonky banjo Ronan was murdering in the living room. I fit my noise-canceling headphones onto my ears and blasted the sounds of the rain forest in an attempt to calm my nerves.
I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m not hurting anyone.
I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m not hurting anyone.
Graham and I were on the same page. We wanted no-stress orgasms, nothing else. And I knew without a doubt that he didn’t have a secret wife or husband—he had me. I was the secret lover.
Again.
It was different this time. I knew it. But at that moment, I felt a little…dirty, and I wasn’t sure why.
The Deverley Report was a real-life tab in the merger-and-acquisition file for Mint and Cooperton. All information pertaining to the project went to Sanjay, who I had to admit was intimidating as fuck. I’d heard through the grapevine that he was an Oxford-grad genius with degrees in economics and law, too. In other words, he was an ideal Horsham employee.
I’d met with him a couple of times to hand deliver a printed copy of my findings. Who did that shit anymore? Well, I did because it was an excuse to visit the Shard and satisfy my need for human contact. I was sure Sanjay would politely yet firmly inform me that a digital file would suffice, but he never did. He flipped through each report, commended my thoroughness, and thanked me for my time. That was it.
Sanjay probably knew that I didn’t have much to add to my last excerpt, so I was a little surprised when he summoned me for an in-person meeting.
“Have you completed your report, Mr. Edwards?” he asked as a question that felt more like “You should have completed your report by now, Mr. Edwards.”
I smiled. “Almost. I’m actually going to visit Deverley this weekend to uh, wrap it up.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You do?”
“Mr. Horsham informed me that he’d be joining you.”
“He did?” That was…confusing.
Sanjay nodded as he slid a plastic bag filled with keys of various shapes and sizes across his desk. “You’ll need these. Each is marked, though I imagine you’ll only need the ones to the main entrance and summer house. There is no housekeeper, and the caretaker’s primary task has been to make sure the shrubbery doesn’t swallow the property. From the photos, it doesn’t look as though he’s done a good job of it. In other words, proceed with caution.”
“Okay, sure…great.”
Sanjay inclined his chin. “Your reports have been most thorough. Thank you for that. Visiting the area isn’t crucial by any means, but we don’t want to give M and C another excuse for delay.”
I fingered the edges of the plastic bag. “No problem. I’ll return the keys along with the report.”
“Brilliant. We should have lovely summer weather this weekend. And if we’re lucky, no rain,” he added pleasantly as he opened the door. “My apologies for rushing off, but Mr. Horsham and Mr. Blower are expecting me. Enjoy your weekend.”
Sanjay strode purposefully toward Graham’s office, thwarting my plans to stop by, say hello, and ask if Graham was aware that people here seemed to know about us.
I started for the elevators instead, running through the holiday weekend schedule. I’d insisted on taking care of all the trip details myself to make this as painless for Graham as possible. I’d rented the Airbnb, mapped out touristy sights I wanted to check out, like Tintagel Castle, Minack Theatre, and—
“Hold the lift, please,” someone barked.
I obeyed automatically, sticking my hand between the closing doors for a short, stout, balding man and a taller, dour-faced gentleman. They muttered thank-yous and continued a conversation in a hushed tone.
“…doesn’t matter. Let him think what he wants,” the shorter man said.
“We might need an extra week,” his companion warned.
“The one thing we don’t have is time. The well has run dry.” The shorter man glared at the array of buttons on the panel, then tore his gaze to me as if sizing me up. It was disconcerting as fuck.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator opened. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the lobby.
“Raine! What a lovely surprise.” Julia’s warm expression froze as she stepped inside the car and noticed I had company. “Mr. Blower, Mr. Sheppard. Good to see you.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Wells.”