Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I didn’t really care. I’d hired her solely because Connor had asked me, and had expected the worst knowing she was Fiona’s twin. My eyes scanned the rest of her.
She had opted for a classic pant suit in dark blue with a blazer that reached her upper thighs, loose dress pants and moderate heels.
“Pants? Is that what you bought for the party?”
She frowned. “No. I didn’t have time to go shopping because of the beach shooting. Why? This is normal business attire. I’m supposed to stay in the background after all.”
Why would she hide her curves like that? It made no sense. I held up my tie. “Can you tie this for me?”
She put down her purse on the counter, nodding before she stepped up to me. She took the tie from me and stood on her tiptoes to sling it around my neck, her fingers quick and nimble as she bound the tie, her green eyes trained on the work at hand. My gaze kept wandering, however, over the dusting of freckles all over her nose and cheekbones, over her curved mouth, and her flawless skin despite the minimum of makeup she was wearing. I’d been with enough women who wore makeup like a second skin.
She patted the tie, and my chest once, looking up. “There you go.” We were quite close, so her sweet scent wafted into my nose.
She took a step back. “We should really hurry or we’ll be late.”
“Fashionably late,” I corrected.
“Late is late, there’s nothing fashionable about it,” she said with pursed lips. Was there anything she agreed with me about?
“How do I look?” I asked, more to annoy her than anything else. I knew I was a hot piece of man-candy in the form-fitting dark blue Ermenegildo Zegna suit, and I’d have my fair share of willing women to choose from.
Her eyes trailed over me slowly, taking their time as if she, too, was trying to make a point. “Well,” she said neutrally. “For a man your size you make the suit work quite well.”
I had to stifle laughter. “I’ve never had an assistant who chose to wear pants to a party like this,” I countered, nodding toward the atrociously loose-fitting fabric over her curvy butt.
She blushed. “It’s not my party. Like I said, I don’t want to draw attention to myself.”
I gave her a doubtful look. “You’re the complete opposite from my previous assistants, that alone will make you the center of attention, and these clothes probably won’t do you any favors, knowing the furies that parade around as journalists nowadays.”
She tugged a strand of hair behind her ear, with a look that suggested she was considering to hide behind me all night.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to be extra scandalous to keep all the attention on me.”
Her mouth quirked. “I don’t think you need any prompting to be scandalous.”
“True,” I admitted, suddenly not in the mood for the party and all the attention-whores waiting to be my next conquest.
She peered down at her slender silver watch. “We should really go now.”
I decided to humor her and arrive at a party less than two hours late for once.
The second we arrived at the party I could already feel my patience slipping. Photographers began circling me like vultures, and the women were only marginally better. Evie tried her best to stay several steps behind me and let me be in the spotlight, but I caught a few photographers taking photos of her.
For some reason it annoyed me even more because I knew she hated the attention. I spotted Connor and Fiona at the other end of the party, chatting up one of Network Ten’s hosts whose name I couldn’t remember.
As I made my way through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging necessary pleasantries, Evie stayed close by and whispered the names of the people heading my way, so I’d know who they were. She did so without prompting as she knew I didn’t know a single name. I couldn’t care less about most of these people. They took what they wanted and needed, and I took what I wanted in turn.
After an excruciatingly long chat with a group of middle-aged women who flirted unabashedly with me, we finally arrived at the bar. I leaned over to the bartender waiting for my order. “One sparkling water with a slice of lemon, a slice of cucumber and ice.” Then I turned to Evie who hovered beside me, glancing around herself self-consciously. She needed to drop the deer-in-the-headlights look in public. I wasn’t sure why she had trouble showing her feisty self in a situation like this, when she was already giving me fire even though I was her boss—not that I minded. “What do you want?”
“A beer,” she said without hesitation.
Surprise washed over me, and it must have shown because she frowned. “Or does that convey the wrong image? I can take a glass of white wine or a water if that’s what you prefer.”