Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
So I threw on a dress and showed up at the Armory with a hesitant smile, still a little wobbly in my high heels. It was intimidating because the charity event was more of a ball, with lots of fancy people in penguin suits and designer dresses. I’m sure I stood out in my little Ann Taylor cocktail dress. Nonetheless, it seemed okay. I was milling about with a flute of champagne in my hand, unsure where to go next, when suddenly, there was a low voice at my elbow.
“I think you’re the only other person here who’s under seventy. Should we toast to that?”
I turned and was bowled off my feet by the man who stood before me. He had to be at least six four, with black as night hair and penetrating blue eyes that made me feel like I was nude, right there in the middle of the charity ball. My cheeks flushed and I wobbled even more in my high heels, but then a bronzed hand reached out to steady me.
“You’re doing fine,” he said in a low voice. “Had a little too much to drink, hmm? Why don’t we go out onto the balcony and get some fresh air?”
I could hardly believe my luck. We certainly were not the only people under seventy at the ball. In fact, there were lots of ladies who looked to be in their twenties and thirties shooting us daggers at this very minute. Or more accurately, they were giving me the evil eye while throwing lustful glances at my handsome suitor.
Even more surprising, when we got to talking, I found out that the handsome man wasn’t just good to look at, but he was filthy rich too.
“Oh yeah, I’ve got a Lamborghini and a Maserati,” he said carelessly while pulling out a vape pen. “It’s great. I love taking my cars on roads that wind to test their power and performance. You ever been to Bear Mountain? I own a cabin there, and I could show you around.”
I shot him a puzzled look.
“I thought Bear Mountain consists of protected state lands,” were my confused words. “How do you have a private cabin there?”
Rev merely grinned and took a deep inhale on his vape pen before letting smoke drift from his nostrils. It wasn’t the most attractive sight, but then again, I was alone in the dusky twilight with a handsome man who evidently owned two luxury cars in New York City. Most people don’t own even one car because parking is so expensive and driving is a nightmare. So to have two really set him apart.
Plus, as a curvy girl, I know that opportunities like this are scarce. Most guys who hit on me think that I’m “easy” because I’m big and no one wants me. They think they can sleep with me and treat me like crap afterwards, while hunting for a skinny woman that they’d actually be proud to be seen with. It’s sad but true, and I’m jaded from multiple experiences where this happened. As a result, I counted myself lucky to be alone with such a gorgeous guy.
The handsome man winked at me while taking another drag.
“Sure, Bear Mountain is protected, but the rules are different for rich people,” he drawled. “If you know the right folks, you can get a slice of just about anything. You want to come up with me this weekend?”
I stared at him but then nodded dumbly.
“Sure. Um, sounds good. But can I get your name again? I’m sorry, because I know you told me but I couldn’t hear because the orchestra started playing really loud.”
The man let out a low laugh and grinned in the darkness, his white teeth flashing.
“Sure thing. I’m Rev Randler. Google it.”
I gasped and stammered something in return, and to be honest, I can’t remember many more specifics from that night. Rev spun me out onto the dance floor for some dirty dancing, and then put me into a town car with a suggestive kiss as his blue eyes promised more. My number was already in his phone, and as I gazed out from the car window at the city rolling past, I didn’t really see anything. Could it be true? Had I just spent an entire evening in the arms of a handsome billionaire? It felt like a dream from Cinderella, and not my real life.
Of course, the minute I got home, I pulled out my laptop and immediately googled him. Sure enough, there were multiple articles about Rev Randler which named him “Entrepreneur of the Year” and a “40 Under 40” worth following. I learned all about Jem Vape and also how Rev pioneered the entire industry single-handedly. I was impressed, and totally flabbergasted that he wanted to take me out.
After all, I’m bigger than your average girl. They say that the average American woman is a size 12-16, but I’m way beyond that. I only wear women’s sizes, and those sizes generally start with a “2.” As a result, I have to shop in the Plus section at department stores, and have encountered more than one saleslady looking at me with ill-concealed pity.