Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Earth to Jayne. Hello? Anyone in there?”
I blink, realizing Elissa has been talking to me for who knows how long while I’ve been staring at the foam pattern in my cappuccino like it contains the secrets of the universe.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said,” Elissa repeats with exaggerated patience, “you’ve been weirdly distracted all week. And by ‘weirdly distracted,’ I mean you’ve checked your phone approximately eighty-seven times in the last twenty minutes and you keep glancing at the door like you’re expecting either Prince Charming or a serial killer to walk through it.”
“I do not!”
But even as I protest, I realize I’m doing exactly that: scanning the entrance of the café for the one person I’m desperately hoping not to see.
“You literally just did it again.” Elissa takes a calm sip of her black coffee, watching me over the rim with her typical analytical precision. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to deduce it from your increasingly erratic behavior?”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I try to sound casual, but the way Elissa’s eyebrow rises a precise quarter inch tells me I’m not succeeding. “I’m just stressed about...work stuff.”
“Work stuff is why you almost jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed earlier?”
“How do you—”
“Lawyer thing.”
Riiight.
I really should have thought twice about having not just a lawyer as a roommate, but as a best friend, too.
“Fine.” I glance around to make sure no one’s listening, then lean forward. “Remember Annie Steele? My psychology student?”
“The quiet one who actually reads the assigned texts,” Elissa confirms with a nod. “What about her?”
“Her brother came to see me last week.”
Elissa waits, clearly expecting more. When I don’t immediately continue, she prompts, “And this is dramatic because...?”
“Because he found my Kindle,” I blurt out.
Her eyes widen. “Oh.”
My shoulders slump. Oh, indeed. It’s the understatement of the century, but whatever. Elissa is the only person who knows about my love-and-hate relationship with MC romance, and right now, I just feel relieved to have someone to talk to about my...dilemma, which I know is another understatement, but...whatever. Right now, my rollercoaster of emotions makes me feel like I’m back in high school, and my mental vocabulary reflects this.
“Did you try to convince him it’s for academic research?”
“He doesn’t believe me.”
“Smart.”
“Lis!”
“I’m just being honest. Only an idiot would fall for that.”
“It is for academic research, and anyway, that’s not...that’s not the worst part of it.”
Elissa’s brows shoot up. “How can it get any worse—“
“He took my Kindle.”
That gets her attention. “What do you mean—are you saying he stole your Kindle?”
“Not...exactly.” I fidget with my napkin, shredding it into tiny pieces. “He sort of...confiscated it. As evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Of me supposedly influencing his sister’s research interests in inappropriate directions.”
“I see.” Elissa’s tone has turned thoughtful, which tells me she’s busy analyzing things. “So let me get this straight. Annie’s brother thinks you’re encouraging her to research...what? Romance novels? Motorcycles? Sexual psychology?”
“All of the above?” I wince. “Annie’s been writing this thesis about power dynamics in relationships, specifically focused on ‘motorcycle club alpha males’ and their effect on ‘repressed academic women’.”
Elissa doesn’t laugh, which is a testament to our friendship. She doesn’t even smile. She just nods thoughtfully, like we’re discussing a perfectly normal academic scenario.
“And her brother thinks you’re the inspiration for this research.”
“Yes! Which is ridiculous, because I would never discuss my personal reading habits with a student.”
“But he found your Kindle.”
“Yes.”
“With all those books.”
“Yes.”
“That exactly match what his sister is researching.”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m establishing facts,” Elissa corrects, sounding exactly like she does when lecturing first-year law students. “So this brother. What’s he like?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean, what’s he like?”
“I mean, is he some middle-aged helicopter parent who’s upset about his precious baby sister learning about sex? Or is he something else?”
Images of Patrizio Steele flash through my mind: tall, commanding, with eyes that see straight through every defense I’ve ever constructed. The way he says “darling” like he has every right to use endearments with me. The way he moves through space like he owns it. The way my body responds to his presence even when my brain is screaming at me to maintain professional distance.
“Something else,” I admit reluctantly.
“Define ‘something else’.”
“He’s...intimidating.”
“Physically intimidating? Intellectually intimidating? Sexually intimidating?” Elissa presses, apparently determined to make me spell it out.
“All of the above?” I take a gulp of my now-lukewarm coffee. “He’s tall, obviously intelligent, and...he has this way of looking at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.”
“And is he attractive?” Elissa asks the question so calmly she might as well be asking about the weather.
“That’s not relevant.”
“So extremely attractive, then.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t need to. If he were unattractive, you would have just said no. The fact that you’re claiming it’s ‘not relevant’ means he’s probably gorgeous and you’re having complicated feelings about it.”