Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
My fists grip the steering wheel so tight I’m surprised it isn’t breaking off in my hands. “Jesus, Katy. What the hell were you thinking?” I snarl once again. “How could you be so stupid? Drinking some unidentified alcohol at a party? There’s no telling what they spiked that shit with. They could be using antifreeze and formaldehyde, just like they did during the Prohibition. Do you want to go blind?”
“No,” she says in a wan voice. “Of course not.”
But I’m on a rampage and continue to rant.
“Besides, drinks like that are specifically made to get girls wasted so they can be taken advantage of! Are you really so stupid?”
She shakes her head, looking ill again.
“Look it was dumb, and I know it. I didn’t mean to, okay? But my friend ditched me and it was really hot in there too. I was just trying to get my mind off how shitty my situation was.” Katy stops abruptly then, her face turning a pale shade of green once more. She lurches towards the open car window before dry heaving a bit.
“Shit.” I jerk the steering wheel, before yanking it to the left and doing a full u-term. “Goddamn it.”
Katy glances back over at me, her eyes watery even while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m okay, I’m okay. But my dorm’s the other way.”
I snarl again, filled with rage.
“There’s no way I’m dropping you off at your dorm now. Do you think your dad would be okay with me just ditching his baby girl, knowing she could be suffering from alcohol poisoning. Fuck. You need to be supervised until you’re feeling better.”
She shakes her head.
“I don’t need a babysitter! Take me home, Brad. Just make a left here, and then a right on Madison.”
But I’m not listening. Instead, I grit my teeth and grip the steering wheel even harder. I know I shouldn’t be doing this because Katy’s temptation personified. Yet, I can’t resist the urge to bring her to my apartment in order to see what develops between us next.
4
Katy
In all the years I’ve known Brad, which is practically my whole life, I’ve never seen where he lives. He was always somewhat mysterious. He’s my dad’s right-hand man, but also a professional who kept his personal life separate from his private one. Yet now, it seems like he’s breaking that barrier and escorting me to his apartment.
We pull into an underground garage, and then take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. He opens the door to reveal a nice space. The apartment’s nothing lavish nor over the top because that wouldn’t befit Senator Mellon’s Chief of Staff, but it’s clean and neat. The walls are cream colored with some corporate-looking artwork, and the furniture is brown leather and heavy. The overall feeling is very masculine.
Still, the apartment is comfortable. He’s got a large living room that opens to a spacious kitchen with a chef’s stove that gleams. Plus, his balcony is big enough for a grill and some outdoor seating, which is a rarity in New York City. As Brad ushers me in, I smile shyly before standing by the window that looks outside. Meanwhile, the handsome man goes to the refrigerator and retrieves two bottles of chilled water.
“Here,” he says gruffly. “You must be dehydrated.”
I take the bottle gratefully and unscrew the cap before gulping.
“Thank you,” I say in a quiet voice. “For the drink and for rescuing me.”
His blue eyes go dark, and he turns away before striding into the center of the living room. I follow him, my footsteps cushioned by the beige carpet, and that’s when I see a photo of Brad with my dad on a buffet table. They’re both smiling, with my dad’s arm slung around the younger man’s broad shoulders.
I take a sip and nod to the picture. “You really are devoted to my father. I mean, I always knew you were, and you’ve been Joseph’s right hand man since the beginning. He’s grateful to have you on his staff.”
Brad nods stiffly, and I’m not sure if I’ve said something that’s totally inane, or if he’s still mad about me and this damned dress. But then he looks up, and I see that there’s another photo semi-hidden behind the first one. This one has the three of us in it, and I beam happily at the camera as the sunshine glints off my hair. I was maybe fifteen or so, but I still remember that day. My dad had been campaigning, and I went with him on the trail as he hit up bodegas, local diners, and even a bowling alley. We snapped that photo at a neighborhood barbecue joint after filling our bellies with brisket and burnt ends.
Brad nods, perhaps remembering some of the same happy memories.