Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 22608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Five out of six, I think dazedly.
And as for the last impossible thing to happen before breakfast—-
"Are you alright?"
—-is for the stranger, of all people, to be the first one to ask me that.
So am I?
I look at him, and I just don't know what to say.
Am I alright?
I don't even know what to think.
Can anyone be alright after what...happened?
But when I see him putting his gun away—-
"Why do you have a gun?"
The words simply fly out of my mouth, and I think...it's all because I'm desperately in need of distraction.
"Special Ops."
I want to think he's joking, but I have a feeling he's not the type to joke.
"You haven't answered my question."
And I guess that's the reason why he's able to sound calm despite all the craziness.
"Are you alright?"
How do I answer him?
I truly don't know if I'm fine, but it just sounds so pathetic to even think of saying it, and that's why—-
"I'm sorry about this," I apologize unevenly instead. "I don't know how we ended up here."
"Do you remember anything about last night?" he asks.
"Nothing."
I want to ask him the same thing, but I can't.
Because I realize I'm afraid to hear what he has to say...
In case he does remember anything.
"She called you Alysse. Is that your name?"
I nod.
"And those two?"
"Rebecca—-"
"A friend of yours?"
"She's Jamieson's PA."
He raises a brow. "He needs a PA?"
"He's f-famous."
"For being a prick?"
Hurt wells up inside of me. "Please don't call him that."
"Did you miss the part of him wanting to beat you up?"
"I know what he did was wrong. I just don't think there's any point in calling him that."
Golden eyes narrow at me. "How long have you two been dating?"
I'm tempted to tell him to mind his own business, but then I see the gun still within his reach—-
"Since high school."
—-and I remember that a little loss of privacy is better than losing one's neck.
"But you still haven't had sex."
"Sir!"
"And the other woman?"
Is there something wrong with my face? Am I not expressing my shock and indignation clearly enough?
"Has she always been that obvious about her feelings for your ex?"
"He's not—-" Wait. Did he just say Rebecca had the hots for Jamieson?
"Never mind. Your face says it all."
So now he notices what's on my face when it suits him?
"You really haven't had a clue about those two, have you?"
Aaargh.
"Will you please stop insinua—-" I end up squeaking in surprise when he suddenly stands up.
Has he forgotten he's naked?s
I cover my eyes, but of course it's too late, since I've already caught a glimpse of the hard muscles of his bottom what I shouldn't have seen.
Un-be-lie-va-ble.
Have I fallen down a rabbit hole without knowing?
Even Wonderland doesn't have this many impossible things happening before—-
No!
He's suddenly tugging my hands down, and since my strength is obviously no match for his, my hands inevitably fall away—-
"Open your eyes, Alysse."
Will he kill me if I don't?
"Or I'll kill you if I don't."
My eyes fly open, and golden eyes gleam back at me in amusement.
"I'm joking, of course."
Aaaaargh.
I'm tempted to shove him off, but...I decide to focus on the positive instead, which is the fact that he's at least put on a pair of military pants...
His lips curve. "You seem surprised. Did you think I was lying about my job?" He gets back to his feet while speaking, and I turn my gaze away when I see him retrieve the rest of his uniform from the floor—-
Aaaaah!
I almost end up screaming again.
Are those my clothes?
And underwear?
He turns around, and when I see his gaze follow my line of sight—-
Noooo!
But it's too late.
I end up tumbling off the bed, my limbs all tangled up by the covers, while Mr. Special Ops effortlessly retrieves my belongings from the carpeted floor.
Dear Self, can we just take the coward's way out and pretend this is all a dream?
I'm just so, so tired of embarrassing myself again and again in front of this guy.
Can we just pretend like we're in Wonderland, and we no longer have to force things to make sense?
Chapter Three
I'VE MADE UP MY MIND by the time Mr. Special Ops reaches for my hand and gently pulls me to my feet.
No more overthinking.
I'm just going to think things through once the typhoon warning has been lifted, and we can all fly back to Miami.
But until then—-
"Are you sure you're alright—-"
"Yes," I say forcefully.
"Or do you need more time to come to terms with how your ex and his PA—-"
"There is nothing going on between them," I cry out.
"—-obviously have the wrong thoughts about you?" he finishes at the same time.
So much for not overthinking, aaargh.
All I can do now is look at him in shamefaced apology. "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"We both know I do," I say miserably. "Because it's exactly what they said. If not for me, there's no other way for you to be here—-"