Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
“Yes.” She wanders past John, and he nods before going back to his hard drive. “By the way,” she says over her shoulder, not looking back. “If I revoke a member’s membership, don’t reinstate it without talking to me.”
I wilt slightly. “I gave her a couple of weeks. Give the woman a break.”
“Will you give her a break?”
“What?”
“She’s only here for you, you fool. You’ve made your life more difficult and given her the wrong impression.”
She wouldn’t say that if she’d seen what happened Sunday night. “I can handle Coral,” I mutter, going back to my emails.
“Good. Handle her now. She’s in the bar.” The door closes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And John’s laughing again.
“Fuck off,” I snap, earning a deadly glare. I can literally see the burn holes through his wraparounds.
“You’re a stupid motherfucker,” he rumbles, tossing the hard drive on the coffee table and rising to his full, intimidating height. I should be buttering him up, not pissing him off. Because I need a favor from him too. I give him my dazzling smile. “No,” he says, walking away. “Whatever it is, no.”
I’m out of my chair fast, going after him. “John, please.”
My beseeching tone halts him in his tracks, and he turns, looking over his glasses, giving me a rare peek of his eyes. “What the fuck have you done?” he asks, wary.
Good question. “I have someone coming at seven. I need you to handle it.”
“Who?”
“Ava O’Shea.”
He laughs. Then he stops abruptly. “No.” He takes the handle of the door, as I rummage through my mind for more pleas, anything to convince him to help me. I find nothing. Fuck it.
John comes to another sharp stop, his big body facing me. “Whatever you’re planning, unplan it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about her,” I admit, the frustration apparent in my words. “Fucking hell, John, she’s embedded in my brain, and I’m fucked if I can dig her out.”
He frowns, dropping his hold of the door handle. “Why have I got to handle it?”
I look away a little sheepishly. “Because she only agreed to come back if she can deal with you.”
“Why?”
“I may have come on a little strong.”
“How?”
Yeah, I’m not telling him that. I’m ashamed. “It doesn’t matter.” I shove my hands in my pockets, feeling the stress rising. “I just need you to escort her to the extension so she can measure whatever it is she needs to measure. And don’t let anyone talk to her.”
“Why?”
I give up the ghost. For fuck’s sake. “She thinks this is a hotel.”
An eruption of laughter bursts out of him. It’s so sharp, so powerful, he’s forced to bend and brace his hands on his knees. Fucker. I’m glad he’s finding this funny. Although, I admit begrudgingly, it’s oddly satisfying to hear and see John laugh. No one else sees this rare side of him, only me. The man’s my rock. And I need him now. Begging isn’t beneath me, not on this occasion, yet whenever have I had to beg for anything in my life?
Except for forgiveness.
Except for mercy.
Except for peace.
“You done?’ I ask, irritated, going back to my chair. I settle and look across to the drinks cabinet. It’s still loaded with alcohol. Why hasn’t Sarah done what I asked her to do? I want it gone.
John’s quiet now, and I look up to find he’s also looking at the drinks cabinet. “And once I’ve assisted in helping Miss O’Shea measure whatever it is she needs to measure, I do what with her?” he asks. “Escort her back to her car?”
“Not exactly,” I murmur quietly, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. He tilts his head, making the light hit his bald head and bounce off. “You then escort her to my private suite.”
“What?”
“Tell her to have a look around. Get a feel for the place.”
“And where will you be?”
“Waiting for her.”
“Hell, no.” The door is yanked open and he’s gone, slamming it behind him with brute force. The whole fucking office shakes, and I drop my head back, looking at the ceiling in despair.
See? Stupid idea, Ward. Fucking stupid. But it’s all I can think of to remind her. To show her. I’m about to go after John, not prepared to give up—he is quite literally my only hope—but he bursts back in again, slamming the door again. The office shakes. Again.
“Of all the stupid motherfucking shit you do, Jesse, this takes the cake.” He throws his arms out. “Trapping the girl? What kind of fucked-up shit is that?”
If only he knew what I’d been up to so far. I remain mute, completely defenseless, as he rants on.
“If you’re that obsessed about fucking your interior designer, take her to fucking dinner.”
“John,” I say on a sigh. “The closest I’ve come to taking a woman to dinner is when I wanted to screw the captain of the school hockey team and gave her a piece of my fucking chewing gum. You know I don’t do dinner. Besides, she’d only refuse.”