Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“I’m not sure I need your help.” Pulling away, she slices her finger through a streak of condensation on her glass, the motion marking a change in the tone of our conversation. “I expect he’ll be off on our honeymoon tomorrow. I’ll be able to get into the apartment then.”
I don’t think so. Not after seeing his plans unravel after yesterday.
“What a charmer. How on earth did you end up with him?”
“It’s a long story with a shitty ending, as you’ve seen.”
“I’d argue the ending was the right one,” I say with a casual flick of my hand. In response, she says nothing. “How will you get into the apartment without a key? Shoreditch, wasn’t it?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Unless he’s grown vindictive.”
“Because cheating on me wasn’t cruel enough?”
“He seemed very remorseful when he chased you.”
Eve flounces back in her seat with a snort.
“But I’m not sure he’ll stick to the same narrative once he sees the impromptu wedding video.”
“You’re assuming he will.” She folds her arms, her jaw taking on a stubborn set.
“One of your guests loaded it to the platform. It can only be a matter of time. I expect he’ll feel quite demeaned.”
“And that’s supposed to make me unhappy?”
“He more than deserves it,” I agree.
“And it’s not like I’m responsible. I didn’t record or load it.”
“True, but humans are a funny bunch. It’s strange how we can take our own mistakes and turn them into the fault of someone else.”
“He can have at it.”
“His wrongdoing and shame will likely turn inward to stew and froth into a sense of injustice. Of being wronged. Humiliation can make people very unreasonable in the aftermath.”
“I’m aware what humiliation feels like, Oliver.”
“Yes, you exacted your revenge.” At the venue. Then in my bed. “It was quite spectacular, but you should probably prepare for him to attempt the same.”
“He’s the one in the wrong,” she says, with less zeal this time. “I’ve done nothing to deserve . . .”
Her words trail off as I place my phone on the table between us. “He didn’t come off very well in this.” Idly touching the screen, I make a show of searching the app for it, like I haven’t already saved it. Or watched it a dozen times. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. No magnificence either. “Few men would take this kind of embarrassment well. On the other hand, you really should take some time to read the comments,” I add, glancing up. “You seem to have created quite the sisterhood.”
“It won’t be my fault if women start heckling him in the street.”
“But will he see it like that? No matter how accidental, you’ve created quite a platform. He’s become the poster boy for fuckups. The impact will invariably leak into his personal life and his business.” I pick up my glass. “I wouldn’t put it past him to seek some kind of retaliation.”
“He can try.” She shoots me a hot glare.
“You and I are reasonable people. Mitchell, in both our experiences, is anything but. After all, it takes a special kind of bastard to cheat on the woman he loves.”
“He never loved me.” Her answer spills from her mouth in a bitter laugh.
“According to him, he did. He does.”
Her posture stiffens. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t spoken to him. He doesn’t know about last night.”
“I don’t care,” she grates out.
“I do,” I say softly. “I wouldn’t allow him to sully such a beautiful memory.” My mind bends to a fragment of the experience. Her breasts pressed against me, so lewd and lush as I slid my hands into her hair. Gold. Amber. Red. So many colors. My fingers tangling in the silky strands as she threw her head back, rocking against me. I can almost hear the soft sounds she made, feel her breathless pleading against my cheek. But this won’t do. “Would you like to hear the messages he left on my phone?” Using my forefinger, I swipe away from the app. “There are quite a few.” I won’t mention the articles in the online press. At least, not yet.
“He called you?”
“Dozens of times after we drove away.” No doubt appealing to my better nature. Sadly for him, I haven’t got one.
She rolls the edge of her cocktail napkin between her thumb and forefinger before glancing up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He’d ruined your day already.” I give a one-shouldered shrug. “I didn’t want to be put in the same category.” A pause. “Would you have wanted to speak with him?”
“I never want to hear from him again.” Like a statement of fact, there’s no emotion in her answer.
“Then I’ll delete them.” I do just that as she watches me.
“Block his number.”
“If you want never to have to deal with him, you could always return home,” I suggest, picking up the thread of something she’d hinted at yesterday.