Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“I guess Mr. Prince-stagram has a legendary appetite. Heard he’s having caviar flown in from Alaska by the pound next.” Keenan shrugs.
“Jesus Christ.” I swipe a hand over my very warm face. “That must be one hell of a party.”
“Should we opt for more fish? The salmon crisps we served at the software conference last year were a big hit.”
“Dammit, Keenan, this crowd has California tastes—the pickiest. Show me you’re still relentless and find my oysters somewhere—have them flown in if you need to.”
He glances at his tablet and then looks up with his lips pursed.
“I’ll follow up. Is it just the oysters you’re so irate about or something else? Or should I say someone?”
“Get the hell out of my office.” I wave him off like a pesky fly.
“You’re never any fun.” He snaps a crisp salute. “I’ll dig for your stupid oysters. But Winthrope?”
“Yes?”
“You need to get laid. Bad. You actually smiled a few times when she was putting out, you know.”
I ignore him as he leaves my office, humming some insufferable song.
Hell, getting laid isn’t even the half of it.
I’d settle for waking up next to her in the morning with my nose in her hair or walking Andy together on another glittery beach.
I should have told him I’d handle the damn oysters myself.
Maybe working the phones would give me something to focus on besides my living nightmare.
I haven’t cared about work since she left.
I’ve never not cared about this job.
Sighing, I glance over at my sideboard, needing a drink. I see the same brandy I had in my sunny office in Lanai, when I managed to convince her I wasn’t Lucifer incarnate.
Looks like that was only temporary.
I stab the button on my desk and call Keenan back in.
“Already? I need time with those oysters.”
“Get this out of here,” I growl, pushing the bottle to the edge of my desk. “Relocate it to your office.”
“Why?” He picks it up and glances at the label.
“I don’t need it around while I’m working,” I clip. I know there’s a risk he’ll think I’m spiraling into a drinking problem.
That shit would almost be easier than the truth.
“Uh, right. Why do I sense there’s more to this story?”
I don’t answer, turning back to my screen and tapping loudly at the keys.
“Fine, I don’t even want to know.”
“There’s nothing to know,” I snarl.
At least he removes that cursed bottle and comes back ten minutes later with a pack of mineral water.
“You expect me to get a buzz off this?” I tear a bottle out of the pack, turning it over in my hand.
“I expect you to stay hydrated. You’re so damn crusty and ornery these days you could use it,” he says bluntly.
I wait until he’s gone before I rip the cap off and glug down half the bottle, spilling a mouthful on my shirt.
What the fuck am I doing?
I can’t carry on like this.
The whole company’s morale is in the gutter, and I’m not helping.
God help me, I have to see her.
A week later, I’m on her porch, knocking at her door with my heart lodged in my throat.
When no one answers, I notice a small gap in the Valencia blinds that I swear wasn’t there a second ago.
Piper jumps back from the window like there’s a twenty-foot werewolf on the other side.
You deserve that, I think bitterly.
I give her another minute to make up her mind before I rap at her door again.
“I know you’re home!” I yell through the door.
No answer.
Goddammit.
I’m about to look for another way in at the risk of breaking and entering charges when the door creaks open.
A young face appears, twisted in disgust.
“Take the hint, dude,” Maisy says. “She doesn’t want to see you anytime this century.”
“I’m still her boss. I just want to talk,” I bite off.
“You are? She basically quit.” But the kid sighs and pulls the door open a little more. “So, I’m sure this is hard for a rich dude, but sometimes you don’t always get what you want. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Ever. Now eff off.”
Little punk.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m desperate. I shove my hand in the gap before she can close the door, hoping she doesn’t break my fingers.
“Maisy, wait. Do I have a chance? Does she hate me?”
She looks at me and shrugs one shoulder.
“Dunno. You suck a lot. She says she wants to hate you, but can’t.”
I’m almost airborne.
If she can’t hate me, I might have a chance.
“Why?” I venture.
“You mean why can’t she hate you?”
I nod.
“If you ask me, Piper just isn’t capable of truly hating anyone. But I heard her talking to Jenn. She said she could never hate you specifically. Not after what you did for Dad...”
Damn.
Not great odds.
I’d rather she not hate me because of what we had rather than some weird sense of obligation.