Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 104919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
People always commented on my height whenever they saw me in person.
In addition to the extra height from the heels, I liked the pain. It was a reminder. Kept me grounded—pardon the pun—so I hurt just like everyone else. That my position gave me nothing but more money and more people who knew my name. It seemed like a stupid thing to a regular person. But fame did something to you. When you had enough people treating you like a goddess, you couldn’t help but believe it, even a little. Sure, there were many celebrities with a core group of friends, family, and good values that managed to stay kind and humble. But those were few.
I didn’t have friends or family.
I had heels by Christian Louboutin.
They clicked against my marble floors as I made my way into the foyer. I hated it. Large. Echoing. Cold. Expensive.
It looked great in photos for Vogue, though.
Duke was standing with his back to me, staring at the large painting on the wall. It was the one rebellion in this place. The one thing that my expensive decorator had not picked out.
It wasn’t by a dead, famous artist. It wasn’t worth millions. It was a print that I’d found online. I’d had my assistant track down the artist and pay them to create it in a large canvas.
It was a woman in the ocean, wearing nothing but panties and a tee pulled over her head so her boobs were almost showing. Her face was covered and she was flipping off the camera.
I didn’t know why, but this woman hit me. She leapt off the canvas and commanded your attention. You couldn’t see her face. She didn’t want you to see that. She didn’t want you to see anything she didn’t. She was confident in herself. She was sexual without showing parts of herself that would’ve made this erotic.
I wanted to be this woman more than anything. And I’d never wanted to be anyone else before. Of course I couldn’t be this. But I could pay thousands for the art. I could look at her every day, reminding me what I was and what I’d never be.
It felt incredibly strange having a man like Duke stare at the painting so intensely. No, not a man like Duke. Just Duke.
The man who’d crept into my dreams every now and then.
The man who’d also appeared in my mind when it was late and I opened the top drawer of my nightstand to find some relief.
He turned around with the click of my heels. His eyes flickered over my body. There was no appreciation there, only a cold indifference that I pretended I didn’t see, didn’t feel all the way into my bones.
My eyes flickered over his body too. I did my best to mimic his expression—that’s what I was paid the big bucks for, after all—but I feared I fell short.
Because there was nothing cold nor indifferent in what I felt about the man in the tight white tee and faded jeans, with piercing blue eyes, perfect blond hair, and the square jawline that every actor in the industry would be jealous of.
This was man pure and simple.
And my body reacted violently, even in the midst of the drama.
“You good?” he asked, voice clipped.
Good?
I was about to leave everything I knew, my lavish life, my full schedule, my trainers, stylists, assistants and ever-present paparazzi. I was about to put my life in the hands of a man who made no effort to hide his dislike of me.
“I’m ready to go, if that’s what you mean,” I said, making sure to make my voice sharp. Bitchy. That was the only way I’d survive this thing with Duke.
His jaw ticked. I shouldn’t have noticed such subtleties in a man who was employed to protect me, but I did.
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. Sorry if I don’t lay out the red carpet.” His tone was mild, but it still hit its mark.
I straightened my shoulders and only now noticed Andre watching the entire exchange with a wicked grin.
My glare settled on him, which of course, only made him smile wider. He was used to the glare, and definitely not scared or intimidated by it.
“I’ve drafted releases to everyone that you’re scheduled to work with for the next three months,” Andre said, tapping at his phone as he spoke. “I’ve already sent them over to the lawyers and Greenstone Security to make sure it won’t infringe on anything going on with the case or the trial. I’ve also had all communication with said lawyers forwarded to Greenstone Security office as Keltan requested.”
I didn’t have time to be impressed at what Andre had done in the small amount of time allotted to him—that was Andre anyway—I was too busy focusing on the start of what he said.