Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
He cocks a brow. “Is that so?”
“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. You got me good yesterday, Mr Sinclair.”
I watch Reuben’s face turn serious. Shit. I tense up.
“You shouldn’t be here regardless,” he says. “I should never have joined you at the club, and I should never have brought you to this office. I should have waved the association away as nothing, and taken you off my click list without hesitation.”
A flash of horror zaps through me. A click list.
“You haven’t done that, have you? Taken me off your click list?”
“Not yet. No.”
I’ve got goldfish gob again. The thought of being ghosted by him unfathomable. I can’t even…
Suddenly the temperature in here is roasting. I’m burning up in the flames of WTF have I fucking done.
“Are you going to? That means never booking me again, I’m guessing?”
Reuben sighs. “I should take you off the list, Tiffany. The blindfold has come off, quite literally. That can’t be undone.”
“Yeah, should, should, should, whatever. But are you going to?” I feel sick, and the Creamgirl side of me trips up, losing control. “Because if you’re going to bin me off your list, just tell me now and get it over with. I don’t want to start getting all fucking jumpy when proposals come in, hoping it’ll be you. I don’t want to act like a sad, jilted ex or some shit.”
He raises his perfect eyebrows. “That’s quite a dramatic way of putting it.”
I shrug. “I’m quite a dramatic girl.”
He smirks at that. “Yes, you are. That’s one of the reasons you’re on my click list, actually. You’ve got a tremendous range of curses when you’re fighting the game.”
I want to smirk along, but I can’t. I look at my hands in my lap and not at him, because he hasn’t answered the question. It’s freaking me out, waiting for the Royal thumb to go up or down.
“Tiffany,” he says, his serious tone returning. “There is a very strict code that everyone in our organisation adheres to. You included.”
I knew it. He’s going to bin me off.
“Maybe if you hadn’t stalked me to a club last night, you wouldn’t have had to strike me off your damn click list at all.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not true. I would have had to strike you off as soon as you recognised me, face to face.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I didn’t.”
I’m perplexed, flustered. Out of control.
“Do you have to? Really? Because I won’t say anything. I can be hooded and play dumb, Santa. I won’t shout my mouth off and scream your name.”
His gaze sucks me in, still the calm in the eye of the storm.
“I’d hope not.”
The Royal thumb is still hanging, and I can’t hack this. I’m already too invested in the fantasy of a man I only discovered yesterday. I’m such a fucking dickhead.
I have to baulk and run, to try to save a scrap of Creamgirl’s pride.
“I’ll go,” I say, and get up. “It’s fine, it’s cool. You’re the boss. Knock me off the click list and I’ll get over it. I’ve got plenty other appointments on my calendar.”
“Tiffany,” he says as I smooth my coat. “Sit down.”
“What’s the point if your mind is made up? Go on, strike me off. Sorry I saw your face, okay? I loved those fucking proposals.”
“THEN SIT DOWN!”
Holy shit, his voice booms out of nowhere, and the prickles shoot right up my arms.
I’d know that tone a mile off. It’s chided me when I’m a hissing bitch, cursing and wailing and protesting before I turn into a dirty little kink slut and suck it up.
I sit my butt back in the chair, but I don’t speak. He’s seized the power from me in a heartbeat.
“There is no doubt I should adhere to the requirements of the organisation, and refrain from selecting you as our entertainer for the founders’ gatherings, but…” Reuben pauses, and I’m fucking quivering, as though he’s about to dump me off a bridge. “I do have another account at The Agency. One for more personal use.”
“Personal use?”
Ah-ha. My eyes light up, because I get it. I’m as sharp as a knife sometimes.
The account Ella was talking about. The inactive client who reached out to her for the charity gig last Christmas…
Reuben leans forward again, reinforcing his stare.
“Assure me that you will stick to The Agency contract, though. Absolute discretion and client confidentiality at all costs.”
I don’t even have to think about it.
“Cross my heart and hope to die, so help me God.”
Santa’s stare cracks into a smile.
“Again, that’s a rather dramatic way of putting it.”
I smile back. “What did you expect? Pinky promise?” I can hardly believe my own nerve when I get to my feet and offer him my pinky. And fuck, how my pussy flutters when he actually offers his, our little fingers tugging together.