Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“A slander clause,” I suggest.
He frowns and tosses the tiny basketball he keeps in the bottom drawer of his desk up like he’s shooting. When he doesn’t give me anything else, I move on to the next.
“Or…misappropriation of taste!”
He quirks a brow. “And that’s what, exactly?”
“There’s no way my father knows how she feels about the Vanderturn Manhattan. Isn’t that something she’d have to disclose?”
“When did Turner Properties start using protocols from fucking Gossip Girl?” he tosses back with a far too knowing smirk. “You and I both know her not liking the design of a hotel she had no part in designing is utter bullshit.”
God, he’s right, and I’m seriously losing it.
But fucking hell. I need an out.
“Goddammit, Cap! Work with me here. There’s got to be something.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t—”
“No, no.” I point an accusatory index finger toward him. “Don’t you say it.”
“Look, Turn—”
“No!”
“You already know this, but since you’re obviously having some kind of psychotic break that I’m praying is temporary, I’m going to say it. You can’t fire her without opening a whole shitcan of shitworms. She hasn’t done anything wrong.” He says what, deep down, I already know. “You’re just going to have to ride it out. I’d suggest literally if you weren’t such a prude.”
“A prude?” My face contorts into confusion and annoyance. “Can a man even be a prude?”
“You’re what I like to call evidentiary support.”
“Fuck off.”
“Dude, you’re in my office. If you want me to fuck off, you’ll have to do the fucking. Oh, whoops. Forgot. You’re a prude.” He laughs like a hyena, and I decide immediately to cut him from my life with a savagery and ruthlessness that rivals the most oppressive tyrant.
“What I can do for you,” he continues, “if you insist on carrying on with this whole insane charade rather than fucking the insanity out of your system, is a background check. I’ve got a PI I’ve worked with on occasion, and he’s licensed in forty-nine states.”
Hmm. Maybe his offer holds merit, even if I’m supremely curious as to why one state has refused this guy credentials.
“Is the state he’s not licensed in this one?”
“Would I be involved with someone like that?” Caplin asks, and I nearly snort.
“Yes. Yes, you would.”
He smiles, secure in the questionable parts of his morals. Hell, that’s probably why he’s the main counsel for pretty much every fucking billionaire and millionaire around. Not to mention, a successful lawyer who turned a million-dollar idea of creating an app to assist people with cheap and quick legal counsel into a thriving company he sold off for a measly 2.2 billion dollars.
“And what about Louisiana?” I ask and he chuckles.
“He’s licensed in the states you need him to be. Trust me.”
I don’t trust him one bit, but I have only two options at this point—use the resources he’s suggesting to dig up dirt on Greer Hudson, or turn tyrannical against him while also losing my sanity.
Bloody torture will have to wait for another day.
“Fine. Do it.”
“Please? Thank you?” he prods.
“You’re welcome,” I goad back.
His brown eyes deepen with sin and enjoyment, and his voice is eerily calm. “I know people, Turn.”
I roll my eyes, and he smirks.
“Just don’t act shocked if you wake up behind bars one day.”
“I’ll prepare nightly.”
“By sticking things in your ass? Because that’s what will happen to you. You’re a real pretty boy, and they love those in there.”
“Fuck you, dude.”
“Yes, that is what they’ll call the game they play with you. Because you’ll be the prettiest boy there.”
“I know it’s hard for you to admit that I’m better-looking,” I say with a sly smirk. “But don’t worry, over the years, I’ve learned to understand your backhanded compliments. And thank you.”
Cap laughs, and just as he opens his mouth, I quickly cut him off.
“Anyway, don’t you have better things to do today than to compare our good looks?” I ask, knowing we’ll be stuck in this vortex of nonsense and insults all day if I don’t.
“Yes, in fact, I do. I was in the middle of an important call when you barged in here with a hard-on for termination, remember? Stroke that thing a little tonight, and it might just go away.”
“Prick.”
“Prude.”
“I’m not a prude, fuck you very much.” I roll my eyes, and he challenges me with a smirk.
“Prove it.”
“How?” I raise an amused brow. “You want me to pull out my dick or something?”
“We both know that’s the kind of thing I would do, not you.”
I nod. “Because you have zero fucking shame.”
“You got that right, Turn.” He smirks. “There ain’t no shame in my big-dick game.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, and Cap just laughs, his entire fucking body vibrating with humor.
“Anyway, it’s been what? Five? Six? Twenty months since you’ve even touched a woman?”
“It’s been exactly one day.”
He furrows his brow.