Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
And it all comes back to me. Her little quirk. I’ve been part of a couple for so long I forgot all about it…my mother’s obsession to land me a husband with a Harvard degree. My mind follows that line of thought to its logical end and immediately grasps onto the fact that I am no longer part of a couple. Instantly, a cold sweat sweeps over my skin and I’m laboring to breathe.
Oh my God, am I having a panic attack? I try to swallow the fist of pain clogging my throat with no success. I can’t be having a panic attack…can I? The urge to run out of the room, shrivel up under the covers, and cry is overwhelming. The walls are closing in on me. Air. I need air. I know I have to get rid of Mr. Perfect before I start to break down. Thankfully, he sees the look on my face and gets the clue.
“I’ve already taken up too much of your time, Mrs. DeSantis. Ms. DeSantis, if you could show me out?” Without waiting for him to even finish the sentence, I’m already marching to the front door. Meanwhile, he thanks my mother profusely and promises to come by again for coffee sometime soon.
Outside, the cold air hits me in the chest and the shock settles my nerves a bit. I walk in a circle with my hands planted firmly on my hips, all my attention focused on measuring each breath and not hyperventilating.
“Are you okay?” Vaughn sounds genuinely concerned. I’m this close to snapping, ‘do I frigging look okay?’ but I don’t want to incur Angelina’s wrath––I’m almost positive the nosy woman is eavesdropping as I speak––and keep those words locked up in my mouth. Motioning him away from the front steps, I make sure she’s no longer within earshot to lay into him.
“How the hell did you get my address? If the agency gave it to you, they are f…they are going to be sorry.” His friendly demeanor falls away and I’m introduced to Mr. Vaughn the lawyer, his perfect brow knit in determination.
“Ms. DeSantis, I appreciate your reason for refusing our offer, really, I do, but I think there’s room to negotiate. If you would only listen to what I’m proposing––”
I hold up a hand. “Stop, stop this instant.” I’m mildly amused when he actually does as I ask. “Find someone else.”
“Can’t do that,” he answers, his head shaking vigorously. I keep walking toward his car in the hope that he’s following me and gets the hint to leave. If not, I’m more than ready to stuff him inside myself.
“Why not? I can’t possibly be the only qualified applicant in an area twenty four million people inhabit.”
“Sam likes you…he doesn’t take to many people.” Turning swiftly, the look on my face shuts him up real fast. I did like the boy. Silence ensues as I reflect on this fact.
“Why not?”
Vaughn looks off into the distance and exhales heavily. “Remember you signed an NDA,” he warns. That earns him a glare. “He’s really shut down since he came to stay with Cal, Mr. Shaw, and Cal just doesn’t know how to handle it.”
My scoff is loud and immediate. “Yeah, well, if his behavior toward me is any indication I can see why.”
He looks pointedly at me and says, “Sam really needs someone like you.” I want to tell him that he hasn’t got a clue who I am but I let it slide. I need him gone, and a lengthy debate with a Harvard educated lawyer would be counterproductive to my goal.
“Why ninety days?” I know I shouldn’t, that any sign of interest will only open the door to more stalking, however the curiosity is killing me.
“His mother’s in rehab again. What do you say, Ms. DeSantis? Will begging do the trick? Because I’m prepared get on my hands and knees if I have to,” he pleads, batting his long eyelashes. This has less than zero effect on me––of the good variety. Overly flirtatious men have always made my ovaries shrivel.
“That nonsense only works on my mother, so stow it if you want me to consider your proposal.” A bright grin spreads across his face. “Besides, nothing’s changed. Your client is still a jerk and I’m still offended.”
All of a sudden, he looks uncomfortable. “Yeah, about that, you see…Cal’s had a tough time lately.”
“A tough time??” I interrupt, looking at him askance. “He’s had a tough time? No, don’t say another word. Just get in the car and give me a couple of days to think about it.”
I have absolutely no intention of thinking about it, and feel zero guilt for letting him believe otherwise.
“Great!” he says all chipper and gets into his Audi.
“I’m not promising anything.”
He reverses out of my driveway, his elbow hanging out of the open driver’s side window. “So I’ll expect you in a couple of days?” he continues undaunted.