Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
So fluid.
He slipped his gaze down my curvy body, and that French accent coated his words. "I was waiting for your foolish date to arrive."
I quirked my brows. "Foolish?"
His green eyes flickered with something unreadable. "What man would let someone as gorgeous as you walk into any space by herself? Surely he would know that a man like me would be waiting on the side, waiting to. . ."
His voice dipped with wickedness.
I swallowed.
His gaze darkened. "And I was waiting."
My breath caught.
He raised a brow. "So now. . .I imagine that your boyfriend is a surgeon of some sorts with a career-heightening schedule for tonight."
A surprised chuckle escaped me. "What?"
He studied me. "Is that why your boyfriend didn’t show?”
“No.”
“Not a surgeon?”
“Absolutely not.”
"Then, a highly decorated detective who just minutes before leaving for dinner, just found a pertinent clue for a case involving a deadly serial killer. He wanted to come, but he had to sacrifice this moment for the greater good."
I laughed—loud, unrestrained.
A couple ahead of us glanced over their shoulders.
I quieted, turned toward him, and whispered. "I don’t have a boyfriend."
He actually parted his lips in shock.
Then, he gave me a slow blink. The kind of blink that looked like a system reboot of some sorts.
His voice came out quieter, but somehow heavier. "No boyfriend?”
“None.” I shrugged. "Tonight. . .I am taking myself out on a date."
A slow smirk spread across his lips. "Aww."
I narrowed my eyes. "What?"
"How very American."
I scoffed. "Are you mocking America?"
"Unfortunately, mocking America is a fun hobby of mine."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.
He tilted his head slightly. "Taking yourself out?"
"Yes."
"That’s very nice." A beat passed. Then, a shift in his tone happened, and so goddamn smoothly he licked his lips and said, "However, tonight, I propose a plan."
"O-kay?"
"Take yourself out another time."
I blinked.
He hit me with a look that should have been illegal. Low-lidded, heavy with erotic promise look.
"Tonight," he whispered, "spend this exquisite dinner with me."
And the way he said it. . .it didn’t sound like he would take any answer but yes.
Oh my.
I had been jokingly talking about kidnapping this man in my head earlier, but right now? He looked to be the true one about that kidnapping life.
A soft sliding noise sounded behind me.
I turned, heart skipping, and realized that the entrance behind us had sealed shut.
The only way was forward.
I swallowed, pulse unsteady, and turned back. . .only to find him watching me again.
Not just watching.
Lustfully staring.
And his gaze?
Dead-set on my voluptuous breasts.
I stumbled slightly, turned away, and fixed myself.
Girl. . .
But I felt him step closer.
Subtle.
Deliberate.
His presence too big, too strong, too much.
And I loved it.
Oh fuck. Should I spend this night with him?
Chapter four
The Answer
Rae
Keeping my pace with me, he lifted his gaze to my eyes. "What’s your answer, Ms. Harris?"
If Laila had been here, she would have screamed, “Bitch!!! Of course you are going to spend this date with him!”
However, tonight was supposed to be about owning myself. At least that was the excuse I was giving my shivering heart as I walked forward.
Mr. Lyon kept my pace and remained patient, but I could also tell that he was thinking of possible counterarguments just in case I said no.
Girl. . .you’re scared. Aren’t you? Just admit it.
I had spent my entire life not being chosen.
Especially not by men like him—one that looked like sin in a suit and watched me like I was something they’d been waiting for their entire life.
Not by men who had the power to make any woman in the world melt at their feet.
And here I was with one of those men standing next to me, waiting for my answer like I was the only one who mattered.
And even crazier, now that I was being chosen, my mind still struggled to believe it.
My heart knew I was worthy. I had spent these past months convincing my heart that I was deserving of love, of romance, of being seen.
But my mind?
Unfortunately, I think my mind was still lagging behind. It was still the younger version of me—the dark chubby girl with barrette plaits— who had spent her childhood watching smaller girls get picked first, who had overheard adults murmur about her weight when they thought she couldn’t hear them, who had trained herself to believe that love—real, thrilling, all-consuming love—was for other people.
But never for her.
Not for girls who took up space.
Not for girls who had been told to shrink their entire lives.
And now here I was, no longer that girl.
I was a grown-ass woman who was currently fighting to love herself, who had walked into this night knowing she deserved magic, romance, something unforgettable.
And yet, in this one moment of being truly seen, I still had to convince my own damn mind to let me have it.
Shit.
Because if I said no right now. . .it wouldn’t be because I didn’t want him.