Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I know I’m not dressed for whatever function he wants me to go to, but if he’s giving me no time to change into something more appropriate, he’s going to have to accept me as I am. Thankfully, Oliver is with Noah tonight, so I don’t have to explain the man waiting for me.
“Ready?” I ask, and I can feel my cheeks heat from the look he gives me.
“If you are,” he replies, and that’s when I notice his driver waiting for us.
Soren walks over to the car and holds the door open for me. I race to my house door, unlock it, put my laptop bag inside, then relock the door and run to the car, where he’s still waiting by the back door.
As I slide into the car, I feel his gaze locked on me. I’m dressed in black pants with a designer belt around my waist, and my shirt is baby blue. It’s tight-fitting. Definitely not an outfit to wear to anything fancier than a work event, and this man looks like he’s going to a gala.
The car ride passes mostly in silence, and Soren ignores me for the majority of the drive. I’m unsure what to say. He hasn’t technically given me the go-ahead for the interview yet, and I don’t want to overstep because I really want to interview him. It would be detrimental to my job if I missed out on this opportunity.
“Where is the event?” I ask.
He looks up from his phone, and the light hits his high cheekbones as he stares at me with stormy eyes.
“We’re almost there,” he tells me in a bored tone, his gaze lingering on me.
I’m the first to look away, and I glance out the window to see where we are. This place is known for hosting the fanciest galas, and here I am, with a man dressed like a fucking God while I’m wearing my dowdy work clothes.
The car door is opened for me when we come to a stop, and when I step out, the valet gives me a look, confused by my outfit, but then quickly covers his reaction.
Yeah, thanks for that. If I didn’t already feel inadequate, I definitely do now.
I see a few people I recognize entering the venue, and I assume they are members of the Society. A few of them give Soren a simple head nod as he steps up next to me.
“Do you just plan to stand there?” he asks.
“Do you plan to guide me in?”
His glare traces over my body before he says, “Dressed like that? No.” And then he walks away.
My mouth falls open in shock, and I wonder if it’s too late to turn around and go home.
But I need the fucking story.
I want the fucking story.
And the bastard knows that.
So, I follow him up the stairs, where the door is opened for him as if he’s the man of the hour. He doesn’t thank the person who opened it. In fact, he doesn’t even make eye contact with them.
Asshole.
The moment we step inside, I know it’s a black-tie event, and I am clearly not dressed for this at all. I hear a few announcements from the stage and realize this is an awards ceremony.
What the actual fuck?
Rushing my steps, I get in line with him and hiss, “Is this some type of award show?”
He looks down at me, as if I’m less than him, and lacking in some way.
“It’s a recognition gala.” He waits for me to say something else, but I can’t. He’s brought me to an event that I’ve never been invited to, but have heard of. It’s a night when major publishers, news agencies, and other media outlets receive awards for their achievements.
“The star of the show is here,” someone says from behind us. I turn to see a woman in a stunning red dress that almost matches the red carpet, except her dress is sparkly. She offers her hand to Soren with a smile, and he takes it and leans down to kiss the top of her hand.
I scoff, louder than I anticipated. Soren’s standard settings include rudeness and bluntness, so this must all be an act on his part right now.
“It’s so good to see you, Soren. I feel like it’s been way too long. Tell me, when are you going to accept that invitation I keep extending?” She gushes a little too hard before he releases her hand. She immediately takes that same hand and places it on his chest. She doesn’t pick up on the way he tenses at her touch—he’s obviously uncomfortable with it. But he is being polite, which makes me want to laugh. He takes a half step back, just enough that she’s no longer touching him.
“I’m sorry, Miranda. As you can imagine, I’ve been swamped. Please, let me introduce you to my girlfriend.” He waves toward me, and I stare at him in utter shock.