Mr. Hired Boss (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss #4) Read Online Lindsey Hart

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Series by Lindsey Hart
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Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
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“Chase…” It’s Chase’s mom, who is on the other side of the aisle, in the front row.

“Son, you and I are going to have a serious talk after this,” his dad mutters under his breath, but everyone probably heard it since the guy has a pretty deep, booming voice.

“Sorry…” Chase addresses the crowd hopelessly. He turns back to Susan. “Yes, sorry. Please…” The last part is directed at the Justice. “Continue.”

The guy follows directions, getting the vows and rings over as quickly as possible and declaring Chase and Susan man and wife. Chase kisses Susan on the forehead (I’m surprised she allowed even that much), and she—because she clearly loves him—takes his arm and tucks herself in at his side.

“Whatever,” she says to the rest of us watching. “We’re married. Yay! Let’s go take pictures and get to the good part where everyone eats and drinks enough that they look like this tomorrow morning.” She grins, displaying remarkably good humor, and walks down the aisle to the back of the backyard where I guess they’re doing their receiving line thing.

Pearl gives me a troubled look as she passes by. I can tell that she’s pissed about the whole puking incident almost ruining the wedding when she took so many pains to make sure her sister got to be the star of her special day. But that’s not it. She looks angry, but she also looks helpless. It’s an I guess we just go with it no matter how bad it is kind of a look.

The families get to hug and give handshakes first, and I kind of just tag along, feeling awkward as hell. Not that anyone makes me feel that way, but I’m sandwiched between Pearl’s parents and grandparents. One of her grannies pinches my cheek when she tries to say something to me, and I have to bend down to try to hear her (Pearl did warn me they would both try it).

Pearl’s other granny elbows her husband, the cutest old man I’ve ever seen with a completely bald head and a huge smile full of dentures, and mutters, “Remember when your bottom used to be that tight?”

He elbows her back and says, “Remember when you didn’t have to tuck your ta-tas into your pant’s waistband for extra support?” They both giggle wildly.

I turn around to hide my grin. Obviously, they’re just poking fun at each other using all the old people clichés, but they’re funny. And so clearly in love that it hurts a little bit to look at them.

I reach Pearl first since she’s on the end of the bridesmaid’s line up. “Oh my god,” she mutters as soon as I’m within hearing distance. “I thought we were heading for certain death there.”

“Should I get something to clean that up?”

She stares at me like I just literally grew a second head out of my elbow. “Uh, no. No, you should not. Mom or Dad will do it, I guess.”

“They’re all dressed up, and they have to be in pictures soon. I’ll do it. It will keep me busy until you’re free of the lineup of people waiting to sweat all over you as they hug you and rip your hand off shaking it.”

“Thanks,” she groans. She lifts a hand to her forehead. “Is the bump obvious, or is the makeup still doing a good job of hiding it?”

I check the bruise she’s referring to. We were both relieved this morning to see that the swelling had gone way down, but unfortunately, there was an ugly yellowy-green bruise roughly two inches in diameter, in its place.

“They did an amazing job,” I assure her. “I’d almost completely forgotten about it.”

“Son, are you going to move along? I want to hug my granddaughter,” one of Pearl’s grannies grunts from behind me. I’m still not sure which is which, as I’m shit with names. “You’re taking up all the prime hugging real estate. You can have her after, you know. Save your sweet nothings for tonight.”

There’s high pitched tittering and giggling following that statement. Pearl blushes straight through the foundation she has on, which must be quite thick to cover up the bruise on her forehead, but somehow, she still looks natural. Damn, makeup artists are good at their jobs. I’m assuming they had one come. Maybe one of Susan’s friends is a genius. I don’t know who to give credit to, but I send up a silent thank you to the universe.

“Can I hug you? The crowd is getting demanding.”

“Yeah,” Pearl says quickly. She blinks, and I can tell she’s somewhat surprised. “Please do.”

I’m not sure if she’s talking about selling this or what, but I don’t hesitate. I lean in and envelope her in my arms, and god, she feels so good. Like she belongs there. I’m so startled that I probably hug her a little too tightly. At least the breath doesn’t rush out of her lungs or anything. She does gasp a little, but maybe it’s because she can feel my semi-eager stick trying to unleash itself on her. Maybe she isn’t certain about how I inhaled the scent of the product they sprayed her hair with, which is delicious and smells like fruit, or how I linger just a second too long. Her breath hitches when I brush my lips over the shell of her ear and whisper something far more than just a sweet nothing, it’s meaningful. And it’s the truth.



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