Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 149137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
She pleased him. He’d probably never had a woman in his life who pleased him the way Kayla did.
He let go of the little ache that had come with words she hadn’t meant to wound. He brought her hand to his lips. “I want to see you in pretty clothes.” He leaned over. “Although you look best naked. Now spend some cash, baby.”
She moved in, brushing her body against his, her head tilting up. He loved how small she was compared to him, though he knew damn well no matter what his muscles said, she was the deadly one. “Are you sure? Because I would love to make you happy. I don’t know what I said…”
It took everything he had not to kiss her. He wondered if that was inevitable. Of course then he remembered where his lips had been and it was easier to back away. “You say all the right things. Ladies, this is the most beautiful woman in the world. Do you think your clothes are worthy of her?”
“Mr. Hunt, she’s going to look beautiful in the new collection,” one of the circling salesladies said.
“I think the colors this season will highlight her hair,” another said.
“I don’t know. She’s gorgeous. I think she’ll make our clothes look good.” The one male salesperson stood back, eyeing her with a totally non-sexual gaze.
“You”—he pointed to the man—“anything she wants, she gets. Now, I’m going to need a spring water and a quiet place to read. Can you do that for me?”
As always in his life these days, the answer was yes.
* * * *
Three hours later, he sat in Carolina Herrera’s North Rodeo boutique as Kayla fluttered about, three saleswomen working overtime to find her things to try on. He planted himself in one of the chairs between the bookshelves that lined the walls of this part of the store.
Three hours. Five stores. God only knew how much money he’d spent, but he liked this particular role. Indulgent Dom. That’s what he would call it. His submissive was being treated like a queen, and even then she’d found the time to pick out a new tie for him at Louis Vuitton. She’d claimed the blue reminded her of his eyes, and she’d insisted on paying for it.
Eight-hundred dollars versus the tens of thousands he’d spent on her wouldn’t be fair in some people’s eyes, but Josh understood the difference. He had eighty million socked away and it grew every single month. Kayla was not in the same position. Eight hundred meant something to her, so in a way, it was far more precious than what he was giving her. He had a hundred ties like it, but this one would be special to him.
Shit. When was the last time anyone had bought him a gift?
He pulled his phone out, the screen gleaming in the low light. It was peaceful in here. He could make some notes on the script changes. Notes like who the hell wrote this? And why hasn’t he been fired yet? His DEA agent shouldn’t sound like a just-out-of-college dipshit. The dialogue was peppered with youthful slang when this was a man who’d gone through the military and was pushing forty.
It all had to be changed and fast.
“Mr. Hunt?”
He looked up, expecting to see one of the saleswomen. It was their job to take care of not only Kay, but him, and he’d known at some point they would ask after his welfare. Saleswomen and men in Beverly Hills were the best trained in the world. They knew when to offer and when to step back.
And these were no different, every single one of them paying attention to Kayla as he’d asked. If he’d taken every glass of champagne he’d been offered today, he would be drunk. Unlike his girl over there. He glanced her way, but she was staring at a cocktail dress. She’d had way too much champagne and there she was, steady as a rock. His girl could handle her liquor. He would give that to her. He glanced up and the woman wasn’t wearing a name tag, but sometimes managers didn’t. “I’m fine, but you might see if Kayla wants a glass of champagne.”
If he got her tipsy, maybe they could play a game in the limo on the way back. She could be the naughty wife who’d bought way too many clothes and would be forced to pay her hubby back the only way she could…
“I’m not an employee, Mr. Hunt.” She was a tall blonde, maybe in her mid-thirties. Utterly perfect, and that made him wary. Everything about her was flawless, from her honey-colored hair to a body she probably worked on a few hours every day. He glanced down and sure enough there was a ridiculously large diamond on her left ring finger.