Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
He touches my face and mouths, “I got this,” and places the phone to his ear. “Congrats, man. You are the man. The Hollywood man, now. This is solid. It’s not going to fall apart like last time.”
He listens a moment. “Yeah, well, I played bad cop to Bella’s good cop, because she had the foresight to see that as necessary. But she barely needed me.” He listens another moment and pushes off the table. “It’s not our first rodeo. We’ve worked together for years, often one-on-one. Why are you coming at me now?”
My heart starts to race, and I push to my feet and away from the table, motioning for Tyler to hand me the phone. He waves me off. “I’m aware of what she means to you,” he says, continuing his chat with my brother. “I happen to value her as an employee.” His jaw tics. “Don’t go there, man.” He listens a minute and then hands me the phone. “He hung up.”
“What did he say to you?” I ask.
“Not to fuck his sister.” He scrubs a rough hand over his jaw and unbuttons his jacket, settling his hands on his hips. “Let’s go get that champagne.”
“He brought up Allison, didn’t he?”
“He did, but I can’t blame him. If you were my sister, I’d do the same. Seriously, baby, let’s go get that champagne. We need to celebrate.”
I step in front of him and press my hands to his waist. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m the one who crossed about ten lines with you, Bella.” His hand settles on my side. “Don’t resign when we get back. I will not be the reason you walk away from all you’ve worked for. I’d already planned to talk to you about becoming a partner if you made this deal happen. And before you say anything, I hired you. Your success is a sense of pride for me.”
“You want me to be partner?” I ask, and I can’t help it, I’m fearful this has something to do with us—this weekend—not me.
“What did I just see in your eyes, Bella?” He grimaces and doesn’t wait for my reply, his hand moving to my lower back and molding me closer. “Damn it, don’t go there. Don’t think this opportunity is about this—about us—when you worked for it. I can show you the paperwork I drew up before I ever touched you.”
“I don’t even have a secretary, but you’re offering me partner?”
“I approved one six months ago, Bella.”
My brows dip. “Was it that long ago?”
“Yes. I’ll hire one for you if that’s what it takes to make you feel appreciated. I just thought you’d want to pick the person.”
“I do. I mean…partner is big.”
“Yeah. So is this deal you just made happen. Anyone else who achieved what you have would be partner. And not many achieved what you have, Bella. You get that, right?”
“I’ve worked hard. You’re right. I deserve this. I’m happy.”
“Good. Can we go celebrate now? Champagne in the room and then I’ll take you to dinner.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We might be seen and—”
He kisses me hard and fast, but thoroughly, and says, “I want to say I don’t give two fucks, but you just questioned your success over us. I’m not going to let anyone else do the same. We’ll order in. And go to a dark movie, if you want. I’ll even see a chick flick for you.”
“Okay, now you’re talking. You had me at chick flick, but we can watch something else. But—” I hold up a finger. “We have all weekend. We’re watching Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts at some point in the room.”
“Black Adam wins for tonight. Pretty Woman tomorrow night.”
I smile and we both grab our things to head to the room. And it almost, almost, feels like we’re a couple.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Bella
I have so much fun with Tyler. When he’s not in “Tyler Hawk” mode, but just Tyler, he’s funny and charming. But the wall is still there. Beyond things like favorite movies, books, and food, he uses sex to avoid anything deeper. But as we step on the plane super early Monday morning, I think it’s for the best. I’m kind of a wreck, but I try to hide it from him.
I hide behind my work, telling him I have to catch up on the plane. When lunch arrives, and I’m forced to set my MacBook aside, I hyperfocus on my food.
“Bella,” he says, compelling me to look at him.
“Yes?”
“Don’t shut me out.”
“We have to go back to normal.”
“Is this normal?”
“For now,” I say and motion to his food. “Eat. We both know you eat enough for an army.” I refocus on my food and he eventually gives in and picks up his fork.
When we land and everyone begins to deplane, he refuses to let me exit, facing me and caging me by the window. Damn him for smelling so good the entire flight and for wearing a snug T-shirt that hugs his perfect upper torso and makes me want to do the same.