Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
The CEO’s eyes shutter and I can see that I’ve touched on sensitive territory.
“There are a lot of reasons,” he says in a smooth tone. “I travel all the time, I work all the time, and maybe I’ve never met the right woman,” he adds lightly. “But I have you now, Ella, and I’m excited about the life that we’re going to bring into the world. Together, of course.”
I nod, still curious. But I bite my tongue because this isn’t the time to press. Nick clearly has some unresolved issues in his past, and I suppose they’ll come out in time. Or maybe they won’t, and I’ll never know. The exchange reminds me that I’m not his girlfriend or wife, nor even his lover. His private history, not to mention his thoughts and emotions, are his alone, and they don’t belong to me. We’re just two people who happened to make a baby together, and I have to keep that concept front and center. No matter what happens, I can’t get emotionally involved with this man. I can’t afford to.
“Of course,” I say in a quiet voice. “I’m sure you’re a very busy person.”
Nick nods, his expression giving nothing away.
“Shall we?” he asks, standing in the small interior of the plane. He’s so tall that his dark head almost brushes the ceiling, and so broad that he seems to take up the entire aisle. I’m suddenly reminded of how vulnerable I am, and nod while undoing my seatbelt and standing up, a bit ungainly on my feet. The CEO immediately takes my elbow and the heat from his fingers sears through the soft wool of my sweater, making my heart race.
It seems he feels it too because his blue eyes flare, the air suddenly sizzling between us. But Nick does nothing but incline his head again.
“Let’s get you off the plane,” he growls in a low voice. “Welcome to New York, sweetheart.”
My heart flutters as I follow him down the metal staircase and onto the tarmac because there are a lot of unspoken words between us … and somehow, I know that the flames will burn even brighter before they go dim once again.
7
Nick
Her features take on an air of wonder when she steps into my penthouse.
“This is all yours?” she manages while staring around the vast living room. “You live here by yourself?”
I chuckle because my apartment is an extravagance by any measure, and certainly for a single guy living alone.
“Yeah,” I say while the porter drags our bags into the foyer. Fortunately, my butler’s on hand and immediately directs the bags to be put in our respective rooms, where they’ll be unpacked and stowed without us lifting a finger. “Here, let me show you around.”
I take a few steps forward and gesture to the triple height ceilings of the living room.
“This room is mostly enjoyed by guests,” I say with a wry smile. “I admit, I don’t sit in my own living room very often, although the artwork is original,” I say, gesturing to the frames on the walls. “But I can’t take credit for that because the art was picked out by my art consultant. Sadly, I know nothing about this kind of thing, and have to pay someone to do it for me.”
Ella’s blue eyes are wide as she takes in the bold splashes of color on white canvas.
“The works are striking,” she whispers appreciatively. “So emotive and profound. I love it. But to your credit,” she says with a smile my way, “you knew enough to know that you needed to hire someone, and that’s a lot.”
I chuckle, tickled at her tongue twister.
“Yeah, I guess it is. I’ve been in business a long time, sweetheart, and recognizing our own weaknesses is just as important as recognizing our strengths. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Over here, we have the kitchen. My cook, Mrs. Solow, loves the appliances, and makes use of the double fridges.”
“You have two fridges?” Ella asks with confusion, cocking her in the cutest manner. “But why?”
“It just came with the apartment,” I say with a shrug. “Maybe the developers figured someone with an apartment this big would be feeding a family, except that they were wrong. It’s just me.”
“So are the fridges empty?” Ella asks, her brows beetling. “That’s a lot of empty space.”
I take a deep breath because this is where I show my vulnerable side.
“No, they’re not empty. In fact, they’re usually packed with food. Mrs. Solow is very involved with her church, and I allow them to use my kitchen to prepare food for the homeless. Once or twice a month, her church group comes and cooks up a storm. I pay for all the groceries, and they say they’re able to feed about three hundred people from the work they do here. They store the groceries and prepared foods at my place until it’s time to bring them out.”