Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
She’s never been taken care of in the way she deserves.
She has a hell of a lot of pent-up desire, and I’m the man who is about to unleash it.
I tear out of my bedroom as if the house is on fire. I did take an extra second to slide on a pair of jeans over my boxer briefs. Shirts and shoes do not serve me at the moment, so all of those are still in my room along with my phone because I don’t want anything to interrupt my time with her.
I round the corner at the end of the hallway at a slow jog and run straight into a man.
It’s not just any man. It’s Randall.
Goddamn this night to hell.
First, his fiancée interrupted what could have happened on the beach. Now, he’s staring at me with obvious tears streaming down his cheeks.
If Charlotte broke his heart, I’ll... what the fuck will I do? I barely know the woman, but I do know Randall, and I can’t say whether marrying him is the right move for her. From the limited experience I have with relationship drama, staying the fuck out of other people’s business is always the best approach to take.
“How did you know?” he says through a strangled sob.
“Know what?” I spit out so quickly that the two words become one.
“What?” he asks.
“How did I know what?” I enunciate each word carefully because I need him to hear me so this unwanted and unnecessary discussion can end now.
“That I was coming to talk to you.”
No. Just no. I don’t need this right now or ever. As I try to drum up the right words to tell him to call it a night and sleep on whatever the fuck has him torn up inside, he lets out a huge ass sigh. It’s so loud that I swear it’s going to wake up everyone who is sleeping on this side of the house.
Evie happens to be on the other side of the house. She lucked out. Her wing has to be quieter than this one is since I’m in the room next to Pete, and I don’t know if he has Broadway aspirations, but the lyrics to show tunes have been seeping through the paper-thin walls for the past hour. Ever since I got back from the beach and my brief encounter with Evie, Pete has been belting out the greatest hits of some of the most memorable musicals of all time.
Not that I’ve ever been to any of those musicals recently. I did have to sit through a few matinees when I was a kid, but I haven’t set foot in a Broadway theatre in years.
“Am I good enough for Charlotte?” Those words fly out of him, along with a sob.
Jesus.
“What the hell does that mean?” Irritation laces my tone. I can’t say for sure if it’s because he interrupted me when I was on my way to eat out Evie or if I’m mildly pissed that he’s lacking the confidence he’s always had.
Randall is by far the best-looking guy in most rooms. He’s had to manage the expectations of not only his parents but his two over-bearing older sisters for most of his adult life, but he’s done it all with an arrogant swagger that is impressive.
He’s nowhere near as cocky as I am, but he’s always been proud of himself.
“She’s beautiful, Reid.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me.
I allow it because I can see how torn up he is. Patting his cheek, I give him a small smile. “You’re not bad-looking, Randall. I’d trim the beard if I were you, but other than that, you’re a solid seven out of ten.”
I expect him to punch my chin playfully, but he tears up again. “You think I’m good-looking?”
I jumped into the middle of that, so I own it. “Sure.”
“She’s worth a hell of a lot more than I am,” he points out. “She’s the heir to a fortune, Reid. It’s a fucking fortune. I’ve done well for myself, but her net worth makes mine look like pocket change.”
This would be the perfect time to sell him on the idea of handing the keys to Azelius Spas to Vidori for a fair price. I can’t do it, though. Not now.
“Who said money matters?” Those words come out of my mouth.
I’m as shocked as Randall. The look on his face says it all, but still, he doesn’t let my question go unanswered. “You. You’ve always told me that money matters most.”
I have, and if this conversation had happened when he wasn’t on the brink of an emotional collapse, I might have said those exact words to him again.
“Do you love her?” I ask the question I should have asked as soon as he stopped me dead in my tracks in this hallway.