Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Not for me.
“I started the job, and I’ll finish it,” I bit out, hanging up the phone in his face.
“Hey, you.” I sat in front of the oval mirror in my suite’s bedroom, applying thick, neon-blue eyeliner on my upper eyelid, pretending to be blasé.
Max’s stance wilted in the mirror’s reflection. He stood at the doorway, hands tucked into his front pockets, mouth screwed shut miserably. He nodded. Things had cooled off between us in recent days, our playful back and forth reduced to polite, grating conversation.
“Lucky me.” I forced a smile, picking up my blush brush and stabbing it over the bronzer. “Another day without the tyrant.”
“He said he’ll take you to the rehearsal dinner tomorrow,” Max explained, almost apologetically.
It had been almost a week since Ransom and I had done nothing in the suite’s living room. Coincidentally, it had also been almost a week since I’d last seen him. One of the security people from the other room had picked up some of his suits and personal belongings and moved them out, while Max moved in to take over. The same person complained the footage and audio from the night Ransom had fingered me was missing. I had no doubt it was my bodyguard’s doing, getting rid of the evidence.
Screw Ransom. His hot and cold games were getting old. A part of me wondered if this was another creative way to punish me for exposing a weakness of his.
Only this time, the weakness was me.
I dabbed my cheekbones with the brush. I’d already asked for forgiveness from Max for what I’d done that night. He’d accepted the apology, but this was all word-laundering. Something was broken between us, and we both knew it could never be repaired.
I was too occupied with Ransom. Max was focused on staying gainfully employed.
“He’s real busy,” Max excused his boss’ behavior. “He’s setting up an entire cybersecurity department, you know.”
I laughed incredulously. “It’s fine, Max. Seriously. I don’t care.”
Max studied me. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I dropped the brush, grabbing a random lipstick, squeezing it against my lips with all the grace of a hippo.
“Because your eyes are wet.”
Were they? Shit. They were.
“Just makeup allergies,” I huffed.
I was dying on the inside. The rejection was nibbling away at whatever confidence I had left. How could he do this to me?
Max stepped into my en suite bathroom, returning with a box of tissues, which made me want to cry again. He handed it to me silently.
I plucked one out, dabbing the corners of my eyes. “See? All better now.”
On the seventh day after my nothing with Ransom, the bastard showed up in a tux at my suite’s door. I opened it for him, clad in a black vintage Victorian cap-sleeved corset dress. The sleeves were white silk, and the hem of the corset was embedded with little flowers.
“Wrong room,” I announced chirpily, slamming the door in his face. He slipped his shiny loafer between the door and the jamb, blocking me from closing it on him.
He shouldered past me, barely glancing at my face. He headed straight to the alcohol cart, pouring himself three fingers of whiskey.
The chutzpah of the man.
“No way I’m letting you drive under the influence.” I closed the door reluctantly, wondering where Max was. Had he gone already? Without saying goodbye?
What do you expect? You used him to get back at his boss.
“We’ll be driven there.” Ransom downed his drink, slamming the empty glass against the cart. He checked his watch. Frowned. Then looked up, his eyes accidentally landing on my cleavage.
“What’re you wearing?”
“A dress.” I picked up my purse from the kitchenette counter, flinging my hair to one shoulder. “Does my skin look okay? Had to descale myself after you touched me.”
“Someone doesn’t handle rejection well.” But his voice held no venom. He looked tired, agitated, and generally unwell.
“It would have been a rejection if you told me you weren’t interested the next day.” I smiled sweetly. “But what you did is called running away. I never pegged you for the hysterical type, but that’s people for you. We’re an unpredictable species.”
Astonishingly, Ransom didn’t verbally whip me for my last barb. He shook his head, grabbing his phone and wallet. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Finally, we’re on the same page.” I rolled my eyes, stomping to the door. He followed me, his tall, narrow frame shadowing mine.
The drive to my parents’ mansion was silent. Mom and Dad sent out one of their drivers, which meant Ransom and I didn’t have the chance to bicker loudly. Just as well. I was exhausted from overthinking what had happened between us, and wasn’t looking forward to coming face-to-face with The Wicked Witch of the South and her sleek-haired fiancé.
Ten minutes before our scheduled arrival at my parents’, Ransom glanced over at me from the other side of the Escalade. “You’re not to leave my sight tonight, Princess.”