Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I have to concentrate. Soothing music spurs my creativity. I think best when one of my favorite singers croons in my ears.
I press play and get back to work, losing myself in the music for the next few hours and pushing thoughts of Asher and his betrayal to the back of my mind.
The meeting with the creative team went better than I expected.
Apparently, my attention to detail and extreme OCD made their jobs easier.
Big surprise.
They asked for four days to complete everything, which would put us ahead of the original timeline.
Charles had told them that this account took priority, so they had their entire team—ten people—working solely on this campaign.
I’m relieved. Exhausted and ready for bed, but relieved nonetheless.
Despite the shit show of a day it’s been, this one thing went well, and I’m going to hold on to that.
I hit the trusty vending machine on the way back, grabbing a bag of Fritos and a Diet Coke, ready to get back to my office and dive into securing publications for Icon and AlteredX. It’s four o’clock, and the office is already thinning out for the evening.
I settle at my desk when there’s a knock on my door.
My shoulders stiffen, nervous that it’s Charles on the other side. I’ve avoided him all day, which is likely due to his own attempts to dodge me.
Good. It’s for the best.
“Come in,” I call out.
“I need help,” Shelby yells from the other side, and my brows knit together.
I head to the door and open it to find her standing there with the largest bouquet I’ve ever seen.
“Who pissed you off?” she asks, pushing past me and walking into the office to set the obscene floral arrangement on my desk.
“Is there a card?”
She blushes, giving away the fact she likely read it.
“Sorry,” she says, grimacing. A firm confirmation that she did, in fact, read it. “I couldn’t help it.”
I smirk, plucking the card up and reading it.
I’m sorry. Can we start over?
There isn’t a signature, but I know immediately who sent them. My stomach plummets, thinking about what a mess he would’ve put us in had he signed it.
What the hell was he thinking?
Shelby looks at me expectantly, waiting to hear who sent them.
“My friend, Asher.” I shrug. “We had a bit of a falling out, and he said some things he shouldn’t have.”
I lie because I have to, but I feel bad instantly.
Shelby has been good to me, and here I am, blatantly lying to her face.
I despise keeping secrets and hate lying even more, but it can’t be helped.
This is one thing I’m not sharing with anyone.
“Well . . . looks like he has a massive thing for you,” she says, and my head snaps to her.
“What do you mean?”
She looks at me like I’m dense.
“Nobody buys an arrangement that size unless they’re in love.”
I pale at her words because this is anything but love. This is an act of buying my silence.
No. Love is definitely not a factor here. Guilt is more likely.
It’s also a ploy to ensure I’m not going anywhere because he knows he needs me.
Well, to hell with that.
I don’t want anything from him.
“Oh, boy, looks like the flowers aren’t cutting it. That guy must’ve really screwed up.”
I smash my lips together, knowing that isn’t the case.
“It was both of us,” I say, not wanting to tell one more lie.
This part, without mentioning who it is, I can share.
“We kissed when we shouldn’t have, and it ruined everything,” I explain.
She purses her lips, searching my face. Her eyes narrow in on me, and sweat builds at my temples. Does she know? Could she suspect? I’m about to say something when she shrugs and continues.
“Sounds like he has good intentions. Why are you still angry?”
I blow out a breath. “It was the wrong place to send me flowers. I don’t want to mix work and my personal life. He knows that and should’ve considered how embarrassed I’d be when receiving this.” I motion toward the offending flowers.
She chuckles. “If you don’t want them, I can put them in the foyer.”
“No.” The word snaps from my lips without a thought.
Shelby’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline, but a slow, knowing smile creeps across her face.
“So, maybe the guy does have a chance after all?” She smirks, and I wince.
“I’m . . . conflicted.”
Her head bobs, and a slow smile plays upon her much too curious face. “Mmmm-hmmmm. Navigating feelings is a real pain, huh?”
Giving them up to the foyer would be for the best. It would send Charles a strong message, too. But the truth is, I don’t want to part with them. It’s ridiculous, considering the reason they were sent to begin with, but I want them.
So dumb, Raven.
“Let me think about it,” I say, and she smiles.
I don’t ask why she’s smiling because it’s obvious. She knows those flowers will be sitting right here on this desk tomorrow morning. Am I that easy to read?