Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
My half-brother, TJ, on the other hand, works for our father. He’s involved in all the business dealings, and is following in Dad’s footsteps as a hardcore businessman, though he’s far more likeable than my father. Everyone says it. And I love him dearly, but he thrives on being the son of one of the richest, most powerful men in London. He wants to be a part of it all. He’s our father’s son, that’s for sure. Why isn’t he the one being threatened? Not that I would wish it, not ever, but it would make more sense.
“Now listen to me, sweetheart.” My father proceeds with caution, probably expecting the proverbial bomb of expletives to explode from my mouth at any moment. If I could form a sentence, I would, but I can’t. My mind is a muddle of nothing. What does this mean? “It’s just idle threats, I’m sure,” he goes on. “But I’ve taken precautionary measures, nevertheless.” His hand comes up and cups my cheek, his pudgy thumb stroking my cheek soothingly. “I can’t be too careful with my little star, can I?”
I just stare at him, and through the fog of confusion and shock, I manage to comprehend one thing. He doesn’t think this is an idle threat at all. “Okay,” I say.
He can’t hide his astonishment. His daughter, the one who he refers to openly as a “defiant live wire,” has just bowed to him and his precautionary measures. Past the astonishment I see relief, though, and that only emphasizes how serious he thinks this is.
“Good girl.” He leans in and kisses my forehead affectionately before standing and flicking a demanding finger to Pete. “Get him in.”
I throw a frown across to Pete, catching him executing a sharp nod of his big head on his thick neck, before he strides out of the room.
Him? Get him in? “What’s going on?” I ask, sitting up in my seat as my father slumps in his.
He says nothing, and instead starts tapping away on his iMac, looking intently at the screen. “Grant, have my car ready in a half hour.”
“Yes, sir.” Grant makes tracks, passing me without a word or look and exiting swiftly, leaving me and Dad alone in his office. I can’t remember the last time I was alone with my father. He always has either his minders or his dumb new wife stuck to his side.
Resting back in my chair, I look at the man across the desk, my father, and try to read him. Now, I can’t. All of his worry and stress seems to have slipped away. “Dad, will you—”
The door to his office swings open, and my head swings around. Pete is practically filling the doorway, his face not quite there, but very close to a scowl. What’s got his beef?
He steps in. “Sir,” he mutters, moving to the side, revealing…
A man.
All the moisture in my mouth evaporates. Gone. Dry as a bone, making it impossible to speak the words that are stuck on my tongue.
Who the hell is that?
Him?
My eyes are burning with a mixture of delight and curiosity. Oh my days, he’s stunning—so tall, solid under that grey suit, but not bulky, and his long legs are spread a little, his stance wide. He looks powerful. Strong. Fucking delicious.
I open my mouth, willing some moisture there, swallowing continuously while my eyes remain locked on his handsome face. His jaw is sprinkled evenly with dark stubble, his short, un-styled hair matching but with flecks of grey at the temples. And his eyes. Dark, dark brown, and they’re watching me with equal intensity. I shift in my chair, my mind screaming at me to say something. But nothing’s working except my ability to appreciate the ridiculously fine man standing on the threshold of my father’s office.
He takes just a few long strides with those long legs and makes it to me. My head lifts as he comes closer, the magnetism of his eyes holding me in place, until he’s standing over me, straight-faced and so serious. A big palm extends toward me, and my eyes fall to it. “Jake Sharp,” he says, those two single words licking the entire length of my spine and having it snap piece by piece until it’s stretched straight and I’m sitting bolt upright. It’s fucking hot in here.
I seize his hand, seeing my slender fingers surrounded by his large capable ones, and the strangest feeling comes over me. My hand. It feels so safe held in his—a stupid notion, of course.
But it’s not there for long. He drops it, his arm retracting speedily. My eyes lift to his, and I just catch a frown and a dazed shake of his head before he turns toward my father. “We’re good to go?” he asks flatly.
This strange man’s presence is tangible. It makes Pete and Grant and all their brawny muscle seem laughable.