Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I told Marco not to follow me and not raise suspicions. He wouldn’t leave me, and I know he’s here somewhere. But for once, I don’t care. I want to make friends. I want to let my hair down. And fuck it, after my shitty date this week, I deserve it.
“Emit, I don’t think you’ve met Honey Ricci yet. She’s the new girl I work with.”
He takes a seat, and Alana sits on his lap. He offers me his hand in greeting. “Ricci?” he says. “The name rings a bell.”
“Her sister is that famous criminal lawyer you see on the news,” one of the other girls I work with says as she splashes her drink on herself.
“Oh, that must be it,” he says as he shakes my hand.
Three men approach the table with more drinks in hand.
“Scoot in ladies,” the guy with short blond hair says.
Talia, my coworker leans in. “Partying with Alana is the best. Her husband always brings his hot colleagues.”
I mean, they’re okay, hot even. But men are not on my mind tonight. That is, until everyone squishes so closely together that I’m awkwardly squeezed between Talia and one of them.
He smells nice and is well-dressed. I’m pressed between them as she attempts small talk, and I purposefully try to shrink back, taking my drink with me as I sip through a straw.
This group is fun, but it’s so different from the partying I did back home with my friends there. Then again, it was always more superficial as well.
“My name’s Kit,” he shouts over the music to Talia but in the process eyes me. His proximity suddenly bothers me. Not in a bad way, but those small brown curls and dimples have cute fuckboy written all over him.
“Talia, let’s dance!” One of the other girls grows impatient and yanks her out of the booth.
“Honey, are you going to join us?” Talia asks.
I shake my head and try not to laugh. “I’m not drunk enough for that yet.”
They shrug and run off to the dance floor.
“Is that actually your name?” Kit asks me, and I’m grateful for the space that has now opened between us.
“Yep,” I reply and take another sip. Is this going to be the same type of guy who will leave me with the bill? I can’t help but feel annoyed by all of the male species after this weekend, and my disinterest is probably obvious. I thought it’d only be us girls.
A woman comes over with a tray of shots. “Do I even want to know who ordered these?” Emit grumbles. But I can tell money is not a concern for him as he nips at Alana’s neck playfully.
I’m almost envious. It’s like watching Crue and Rya. Reminding me that there can be functional relationships. Hell, even happy marriages.
Everyone picks up a shot and raises it. They look at me expectantly, so I oblige. Fuck it! I came to let down my hair. So I will. American style.
“Cheers to my beautiful wife. Twenty-one again,” Emit announces. We clink our shot glasses, and I notice Kit’s gaze on me before we throw them back. I swallow the shot, a mild buzz running through me.
I mean, I suppose he’ll do, right? It doesn’t matter who I give my virginity to. As long as I get rid of it, right?
“So, are you new to town?” Kit asks.
“She came over from Italy only a month ago,” Alana replys on my behalf. “And she is, like, the best!”
She encourages everyone to grab another shotglass.
“I don’t know if I’m still going to be the best tomorrow at work if you keep feeding me these shots,” I joke. But I oblige and throw back another drink.
Kit offers me his hand. “Are you drunk enough now to dance?”
I consider him.
I mean, he is cute.
Fuck it!
I take his hand.
CHAPTER 19
Dawson
“So you tried to fuck my virgin sister-in-law?” Crue asks as he sits back in the chair on the other side of my desk. His unannounced visits are becoming quite the habit.
“Remind me, when is your brother coming back?” I ask because he needs to come back soon. Crue and I are friends, good ones at that. He is a powerful man, no doubt about that, but since his right-hand man is off with his wife, who just had a baby, I’m left to entertain him on the days Rya is working late.
“Hopefully soon. And stop avoiding the question because I got an earful for you… I don’t even know… not fucking her?” he complains.
Flattered that I’ve become a household discussion, I think bitterly.
“She’s a nice young woman but not my type.”
A dark chuckle leaves him.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my gaze.
“Nice young woman. What is that even supposed to mean? Like, nice enough you want to fuck her, or nice enough that you think you shouldn’t?”