Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
She practically throws it into my hand and leans on the bed beside me. I scan the screen. It’s a text message and my jaw tightens as I see the sender. George. Of course it’s fucking George. Of course, he was always going to do this. Worm his way back when he realized he was losing her. Weak. Just weak.
Hey Pips, Claudia and I are over because I just can’t stop thinking about you. Are you around? Want to grab a drink? xx
Anger thrums through me, and I have to try hard to resist the urge to throw Pippa’s phone at the nearest wall. With one stupid text message, he has managed to turn Pippa’s excitement about being with me and discovering herself into excitement about him.
I remind myself that as far as she is concerned, this was always the goal. She made that crystal clear from the start. She isn’t betraying me. She is allowed to be happy about this.
And I will just have to keep playing the game. Until I win or die.
I glance up at her, taking in her bright, expectant smile, and clear my throat, forcing a casual tone when I speak.
“Ok,” I say, holding the cell phone slightly away from me, trying not to let my irritation with him show. “You don’t want to appear too eager. George must work to prove that he deserves you. And he’s a long way from that. He dumped you, ghosted you, and even fucking blocked your number. That’s pretty low stuff. If you let him off easily, he’ll just do this again. You know it, and I know it. And it’s time for George to understand it too. You don’t want to be George’s doormat, do you?”
Pippa pouts slightly, but the glint in her eyes tells me she’s enjoying herself immensely. “So, what do I say?”
I let my fingers drum lightly on the bed while I pretend to think. The strategy is simple. I need to come up with something that will have Pippa thinking I’m helping her to get George back, but also something that will make him feel uncertain of his fate and buy me some time. An idea comes to me, and I think it could work. I smile at her.
“You send back a one-word message. Maybe. Nothing else. Don’t react to him and Claudia breaking up, don’t give him any extra details. Make him wonder. Make him chase you. All men love the chase.”
“Maybe, huh?” she says consideringly.
I nod.
Her grin widens, devilish and bright. “You are right. It’s time for him to do some chasing.”
With a small smile that doesn’t betray my satisfaction, I hand her phone back, and watch her thumbs fly over the screen.
She looks up. “Emojis?”
I shake my head decisively.
“Sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Done,” she says, slipping the phone back on the bed between us. The symbolism isn’t lost on me. George is the barrier between us. “Now what?”
“Now nothing. You’ve said what needed to be said. Now you go on with your day as though nothing has changed,” I say, keeping my voice light and easy.
She tosses aside the covers suddenly and hops out of bed. My eyes follow her pink flesh as she streaks across the room. She is a delectable thing first thing in the morning. Quite, quite delectable. I’ll wait for her to come out and pounce on her then.
“You are a little bit too good at this,” she says, laughing as she disappears into the ensuite.
I stare at the ceiling with my hands folded behind my head.
I can’t shake the irritation or the uber-protective instinct I experience whenever George’s name enters the picture. Pippa doesn’t love him. If he is her soulmate, she wouldn’t be carrying on with me. She loves the idea she built up in her head, the fantasy of him as some perfect partner, and she doesn’t want to accept that the man in her head doesn’t exist. The reality of him is that he is feeble, entitled, and entirely undeserving of her attention.
And yet, here he is, ruining my morning and trying to insert himself back into her life. It stirs anger in me because I don’t want her thinking about him. I want her to realize that the fire she felt last night, the heat, the thrill that’s real. That’s me. And that’s her. That’s what we get together. It doesn’t happen that often. In fact, it is a rare thing.
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the pull of possessiveness tighten around my chest. She’s mine even if she doesn’t know it yet.
The sound of the shower starting drifts through the door, and I shift on the bed. Pippa and I have made some rules for our time here, and I won’t let some wet English lad come in and try to rewrite them.