Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 821(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“Famous last words.”
“Of whom?” I fire back. “I never read any famous last words about your dick in the history books.”
“That’s because you are out of touch with quality literature.”
“So…” Nel says.
We both lean back guiltily.
“I think I have enough to start on.” I close my notepad that doesn’t have one frigging note in it. “I’m going to workshop this and I have to get going because I have a….” I try to think on my feet. “I have a lunch date I have to get to.”
Edward’s eyes meet mine. “With who?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “The man I came to Paris to meet.”
Yes…this is good.
“Really?” Edward’s eyes meet mine. “I’d love to meet him.”
“Oh…you will.” I smile sweetly.
Fuck….
“Great. Let’s meet back in the bar at say six.”
What?
“Um…. Oh…. Well.” I feel my face turn a shade of fuchsia red flustered.
Edward rolls his lips to hide his smile, conceited ass. He knows I’m lying…. Damn it.
“Sounds great,” I lie.
“We’ll make a double date of it.” He gives me a playful wink.
Oh…so he is here to take Nel on a date. Of all the bastardly assholes on earth.
Suddenly single and he’s chasing fucking Nel.
“Awesome.” I smile through gritted teeth, and by awesome, I mean this is a fucking catastrophe. “Nice to meet you, Nel.” I shake her hand. “I look forward to working together.” I turn and walk back to the elevator at fast pace.
Fuck’s sake….
An hour later I’m pacing in my room.
What do I do…. What do I do?
I don’t want to cancel tonight and I don’t want him to have the upper hand. He thinks I was lying about having a lunch date…. And I was, but he doesn’t know that.
He can’t know that.
Here I am constantly daydreaming about all things Edward Prescott and trying to force a tiny bit of effort and here he is flying to Paris to spend time with Nel.
Oh god, I’m such an idiot.
He thinks it’s all about him…. I need to get the upper hand.
But how the hell do I do that?
I flop back onto the bed, now I’m going to have to go out and find a man in approximately… I look at my watch. Six hours. Which is impossible because you can’t find a decent man on earth in an entire lifetime. I don’t want some average Joe, I need an expert. Someone really fabulous.
Unless….
No.
Surely not.
I bite my lip as an idea rolls around in my head…. I mean, it could possibly work.
I pick up my phone and google:
Male escort Paris
My heart races as I wait for the results.
THOMAS STONE.
Professional and discreet.
With shaky hands I dial the number.
“Hello,” a deep sexy voice answers.
“Um…hi. Is this Thomas Stone?”
“It is.”
I close my eyes, mortified by what’s about to come out of my mouth.
“My name is Alora and this is the lamest thing I’ve ever done but I have to go out tonight and I need a platonic date to pretend to be on a real date with me,” I blurt out in a rush.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I’m in Paris.”
“Okay.” He thinks for a moment. “You’re in luck, I’m also in Paris this weekend and I don’t have anything on tonight.”
“You don’t?” I frown.
“But I do have a job on tomorrow so I will need to be out early in the morning.”
“Oh.” I widen my eyes in horror. “You can leave tonight. This isn’t a real date.” I scrunch my hair in my hand. “Absolutely two hundred percent platonic.”
Arghhhhhh!
“We’ll see.” He chuckles. “Text me the address and time.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I hold my chest, I’m sure I’m about to have a heart attack at any moment.
“Oh, and Alora.”
“Yes.”
“Wear something sexy.”
My eyes widen and the phone goes dead.
What the hell have I done?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALORA
I hold the dress up to myself in the mirror, it’s black and fitted and could be cute, although I’m not sure how it’s going to look on me. I’m in the middle of a shopping nightmare. I didn’t bring anything sexy to wear, I was going to Paris to have a weekend of rest and retreat, never in a million years did I think that I would be hiring a male escort to piss off Edward Prescott.
Honestly…if this isn’t the most hare brained scheme that I’ve ever had, I’ll eat my hat.
“Can I help you?” the sales assistant asks.
“Yes, what does this look like on?”
“Beautiful.” She smiles.
You would say that, wouldn’t you?
“What are you after?” she asks.
“Well, I don’t actually know but something that fits well and makes me look like…” I widen my eyes, “…irresistible.”
She smiles. “I have exactly the dress that you need.”
“You do?”
“This way, please.” I follow her to another part of the shop and I look around nervously, this is the expensive part of the shop, I’m sure of it.
You know what…who cares what the price is. If it gets the job done, then it’s worth every pretty penny.