Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Do it. The sooner the better.”
“I’ll talk to them today. Any budget?”
“The ‘save my ass’ budget will do.”
“Got it. No budget but they’re honest. They won’t screw you around.”
I push to my feet. “I’ll get you a car.”
She’s already standing, sliding her briefcase onto her shoulder. “I’m good.” She motions to her Apple Watch. “I like my steps. Be careful.”
A complicated direction, but exactly why I’ve been thinking of walking away from the family business. If I’m smart, and I try to be, this new development should be the feather that breaks my back and pushes me away. I walk Harper outside and wait for her to disappear around a corner, before I finally head back inside the hotel and seek out the elevators, actually shocked at how much I want to see Sofia right now. Normally, in a situation like this one, I’d want to be alone. Instead, I want to be buried inside her, the floral scent of her drowning me in her sweetness. But as I open the door, I sense the emptiness. I know she’s gone, but I don’t feel the slice of the emotional blade until I spy a piece of paper where it sits in the center of the bed, a gnawing feeling in my belly. I cross and snatch it up, reading the words with the impact of that steel ball to the gut all over again.
Ethan, business and pleasure don’t mix. We both know it’s true. We both know this was a mistake. But thank you for everything.
Goodbye, Sofia
The thin paper crumples in my hand, and my lashes lower, my jaw grinding. That note couldn’t get any colder. She's gone. And considering she’s walked out on me two times now, it’s time to accept I want this far more than she does. It’s time to let her go, but as I toss that ball of paper into the trashcan, I know I’m going for three.
Chapter Three
Sofia
My fairy tale billionaire romance has ended with brutal finality.
Two hours after spying Ethan way too up close and personal with his ex, I’m stuck in a cheap airport hotel waiting for an affordable flight back home—this after discarding the idea of paying the ridiculously expensive price tag that would have allowed me to fly back home tonight.
After picking at, and discarding, my DoorDash-delivered salad, I have now resorted to flipping through channels in an effort to find something, anything, to scrub Ethan from my mind. The fact that some desperate part of me is hanging on a thread, waiting for him to call me, is the definition of my own stupidity I can’t seem to escape. Even if he did communicate, I’m certain that any excuse he offers me will be lies, and at this point nothing will change my morning departure. I do not wish for a life filled with lies, not even for a few short passion-filled months.
My decision is made. If he calls, I won’t answer.
I’m done. I knew that before I ever arrived in this hotel room.
And if I’m honest with myself, I knew better than to get naked with that man, and yet I pathetically moaned for him on repeat, most likely to the detriment of my career, but I can’t think about that now. My cheeks heat with the memories of our oh-so-intimate moments and of those moans, and I bury my face in my hands. Frustrated, I throw my legs to the edge of the bed and use the remote to turn off the television, but the empty room seems to mock me. My phone betrays the silence, and I pant out a breath riddled with more nervous quaking only to find my father’s name, not Ethan’s, stamped across my screen. Disappointment stabs at me—a telling monster that refuses to allow me to pretend I’m unaffected by all that has happened with Ethan.
With a swallow meant to wash away my emotions, I answer the call. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, honey. I’m at your place. Where are you? I thought you were coming back early tonight.”
Guilt pinches at my chest. I should have communicated, but I’ve been consumed by all things Ethan and neglected everything else. “I’m sorry, Dad. I meant to call. It’s been a whirlwind. I had to stay for an extra day of meetings, but all is well. I’m actually at an airport hotel and flying out early tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s good, I assume? All is well?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, offering rapid assurance and quickly shifting the mood before he reads more in me. “In fact, I just finished eating a salad I had delivered from a local joint that wasn’t half bad. Of course, it didn’t beat that little place Mom got you hooked on, and then you me, all those years ago.”
“Part of that is nostalgia.” His voice is drawn tight, but it shifts and lightens with an obvious effort. “How did it go?”