Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Life has taught me I’m forgettable, unless someone needs something from me. While things are going great, people forget I exist, but the second hell breaks loose, my number is the one they call.
It sucks.
Just once, I’d like to be a priority in someone’s life. I’d like to be taken into consideration. I want my voice to be heard.
But that’s never going to happen.
I’m the forgettable one. Always have been. Always will be.
Wanting to feel like I’m a priority for one night, I take matters into my own hands and book a date through The Perfect Gentleman’s service. I figure if I’m going to pay for the date, the guy will be forced to give me the attention I’ve always craved.
I’m not going to lie, I almost cancel the date a hundred times, but gathering my courage, I head to the restaurant to meet Mr. Perfect.
Mr. Perfect turns out to be PERFECT in the looks department. His blue eyes are seductive and playful, luring me in like a moth to a flame, and the dominance radiating from him actually makes me feel safe.
Little do I know my entire life is about to be turned upside down.
WARNING: 18+ only. Please read responsibly. THIS NOVEL CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Songlist
Click here - Spotify
Forgettable – Project 46, Olivia
Happier Than Ever – Kelly Clarkson
Helium – Sia
Kiss Me – Ed Sheeran
A Thousand Years – Christina Perri
Unwanted -Camylio
I Tried – Camylio
You & I – One Direction
When I Look At You – Miley Cyrus
“Never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option.”
–— Maya Angelou
Chapter 1
Callan
Callan Wright; 32. Lillian Harrison; 25.
Walking down the staircase as I head toward the living room, I answer the incoming call with a grumble, “I’ll be at the office by nine. Surely this call can wait until then?”
Easton, my personal assistant, lets out a chuckle, “Your idea of nine a.m. and mine are two very different things. This can’t wait until twelve.”
I usually start working around lunchtime because I’m always busy until midnight, but today, I’m heading in early as we’re planning the company's tenth anniversary.
“I’m leaving my apartment as we speak.” I grab my tailored jacket from where it’s draped over the back of a white leather couch and shrug it on. “I’m just going to get a coffee from Starbucks, then I’ll be at the office.”
“Get me an iced latte. Two pumps of vanilla.”
I shake my head, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”
“Yeah, but you’re already on your way to Starbucks.”
The little shit has always been too casual with me, but it’s his personality, and I’ve learned to accept it. Easton is good at his job, and it’s all that matters. It took some time getting used to him, but now he’s the life of the office.
“See you in twenty minutes,” I say before ending the call and leaving my penthouse in the Ritz Carlton.
The past ten years I’ve worked my ass off to get an apartment overlooking Central Park. I don’t come from a wealthy family and made my fortune from running an escort service. Now, I’m one of the most eligible bachelors of Billionaire’s Row.
But I don’t care what people think of me. At the end of the day, only my family and friends, my business, and what’s in my bank account matter.
Stepping out of my apartment, I take the elevator to the lobby. When the doors open, Mrs. Hill, who lives a floor beneath me, gives me one glance before inspecting her Gucci bag as if it holds all the answers to the universe. God forbid she has to greet me. Mr. and Mrs. Hill think they shit gold, and I’m far beneath them.
Just to fuck with the entitled woman, the corner of my mouth lifts in the sexiest grin I can muster at eight-thirty in the morning. I drop my voice lower, so the tone is inviting. “Morning, Mrs. Hill. Love the pearl necklace you’re wearing.”
Her cheeks flush bright red, and offended, her eyes widen. Her lips try to form a reply, but I leave the lobby before she can find the words.
Instantly, I’m hit with the city’s energy buzzing as people hurry to work. Bumper-to-bumper cars line the streets.
Luckily, my office is only two blocks away, and I enjoy the short walk. Nearing Starbucks, a glance through the window tells me I’m going to have to wait a while for my coffee. I enter the crowded establishment and join the long line of people waiting to get their morning caffeine fix.
I could’ve had coffee at my apartment or the office, but I don’t mind waiting in line. It gives me a chance to people-watch, which is something I like to do.
A delicate scent of vanilla and cinnamon drifts in the air, and for a moment, I think it’s from the beverages until the woman in front of me drops her phone. We both crouch to pick it up, and it brings her closer, giving me a stronger whiff of her perfume. The vanilla and cinnamon scent is definitely coming from her. She’s got good taste, and it suits her.
Her blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her face is makeup-free, which I don’t see often around here. Most women glam up to go jogging, knowing they might run into someone they know at any moment.
The black jeans and camisole she’s wearing make her look younger, but I’d guess she’s in her mid-twenties.
Picking up the device, I hand it to her. Her voice is soft as she says, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, not thinking much of the incident.
We both straighten up again, and I’m given a timid smile before her attention is focused on her phone.
My own device vibrates, and pulling it out of my pocket, I see a message from Harper, one of my best friends and the manager of my company.
While you’re at Starbucks, grab me a caramel macchiato.
Shaking my head, I let out a chuckle before typing out a reply.
Yes, boss.
She instantly replies.
I wish.
Tucking my cell phone away, I take a couple of steps forward as the line moves. Slowly, we inch closer to the counter until the woman in front of me says, “Can I have a breve latte, please?”