Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
After texting the driver, I quickly put all my things back into my bag and follow him out the door. We stand there, and he slides on his sunglasses, but I still feel his gaze trained on me.
“He shouldn’t be long,” I tell him reassuringly.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asks, and I turn to face him.
“No, should you?” The lie falls from my lips so easily. But in reality, he makes my pulse rush so fucking fast when he is near.
“Yes, I should,” he replies, tone low, deep, and measured.
I’m taken aback by his words, and that’s the moment my driver pulls up in front of us. “Can I ask why?” I hear the driver open the car door, but neither of us moves to slide in.
“It would be a smart thing to do.”
“I am smart,” I throw back at him, my voice sharper than I intend. I didn’t get where I am today through dumb luck—I earned every step. I worked my ass off for it. Just because I don’t hold a fancy degree like he does doesn’t mean I am less than. Not even close.
“I’ve offended you.” His lips thin in a straight line, and while I can’t see his eyes, I know they are still on me. His gaze basically burns right through me. I don’t reply; instead, I turn to my driver, Matty, who nods at me in greeting.
“We should go. I have plans later, and I would like to get this sorted sooner rather than later,” I state, giving him a tight smile before I climb into the car. He walks around to the other side and slides in next to me.
Pulling out the brochure again, I open it to the listing I plan to show him. “As you can see by the photos, I think you’ll like this property. It has all the specifications you listed. And it’s actually below the price you mentioned to Layla.”
“Good. Though price isn’t really an issue.”
“Okay.” I close the brochure.
“You’re avoiding looking at me,” he points out.
I clench my teeth before replying, “No, I’m not.” And then I turn to face him. He’s taken his sunglasses off, and he’s staring at me again. Why does he have to look like that? Why does he have to make my pulse race so fucking fast I can hear it beating in my ears?
No man should hold that power over a woman.
“How much?” he asks, maintaining eye contact, and I don’t dare look away.
“Twenty million,” I tell him, letting the number hang in the air like a challenge.
He doesn’t even flinch. No raised brow, no shift in his stance, just calm, calculated silence, as if I’d said twenty dollars instead. And it rattles me more than I care to admit.
“I can pay in cash by the end of the day if the property meets my needs and expectations.”
“Great. That’s good to know.” Now, I do look away. Grabbing my phone, I check my emails, and without glancing his way, I still feel his stare.
“How long have you been in real estate?”
Small talk. That I can do. I think.
Locking my phone, I glance out the window before I turn back to him. “Fifteen years.” Then I ask, “And how long have you been practicing?”
“I went into it straight out of college. Seems I have a knack for people.”
“What do you mean?” I ask curiously.
“It’s like I can read what people want to say without them having to say it.”
I think about that for a moment. Can he read me right now? But if he can, why is he asking me questions?
“What about me?”
“You?” He raises a brow, and I simply nod. “Well, you seem to be harder to read than most.”
“Is that a compliment?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer.
FOUR
ARLO
Confidential — Personal Use Only
OBSERVATIONS:
If I cracked her open, would she be easier to read?
I need to be mindful of this impulse.
It’s in the way she moves that her true emotions are hidden. She’s either been severely hurt and has done a good job at protecting herself, or she’s just blind to it. Either way, it’s remarkable. Everyone has some type of tell. Maybe a leg shake, clenching of the hands, or even biting the inside of their cheek or lip. And yet, she seems to have none, at least not one her body gives away.
“Yes, I guess it is,” I finally reply, answering her question.
“Thank you. I think.”
The car slows down and then comes to a stop. She turns her head away, and I immediately miss her eyes on me. My hand slides into my pocket, and I clench the beads as I imagine what they would be like wrapped around her pretty neck as I fuck her.
As she opens the car door, she leaves her purse on the seat, only taking her phone with her. The driver gets out at the same time she opens her door, and I take that opportunity to reach into her purse and take her wallet, sliding it into my pocket. I then get out and join her.