Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“Paul got on the elevator this morning,” she said. “He didn’t realize I was there until it was too late, and it looked like he couldn’t breathe.”
“Great,” I replied, flatly.
She frowned. “I thought that’d at least get a smile.”
“It reminds me that he gets to be closer to you than I do.”
“Yeah, well, you look sexy when you’re jealous.”
I couldn’t help but reward her with the smile she wanted.
“I see you’ve made significant progress on your apartment,” she continued.
“Yes,” I said, panning the phone around so I could show her. “I moved this box from the counter to the floor.”
“Nice work.”
“More furniture is coming. I . . . was hoping you would want a say in it.”
She pressed her lips together.
I wasn’t going to apologize for pushing for what I wanted. Every day apart could be solidifying her decision to never return. If that were true, I was going to have to resign. The week in Wisconsin had shown me what it could be like, and now I was settling for considerably less.
“What are you doing on Friday?” I asked.
“Friday? Isn’t that your reopening?”
“As long as we stay on schedule.” The production line had been certified to resume operations. “Do you have plans?”
She swallowed hard, probably worried I was going to ask her to come to Munich. “Not that I’m aware of, but—”
“Good, I put the flight crew on standby. I’ll head your way as soon as it’s over.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. “Isn’t there going to be some sort of event after?”
“I don’t care. I’m not waiting any longer.”
Not to mention, the last one hadn’t gone so well. It would be two weeks since I’d walked her off my plane in New York and set her in a town car. It already felt like a millennium had passed since I’d held her.
After ten days, my mother broke our “no personal talk at the office” rule to tell me to stop moping. Rumors were flying, and the media sensationalized the story further when someone at the Trier hospital leaked Kara’s file.
Even my assistant asked if we’d gotten married in secret. My mood soured further when I spied the box that contained Kara’s wedding rings sitting on my desk.
“I asked you to return that,” I said, gesturing to it. “Why is it still here?”
It tormented me, and I could have sworn I’d dropped it on my assistant’s keyboard. But it was back, dead center of my desk.
“I thought you might want to hold on to it a little longer,” my assistant said.
I was sure my expression was the cold, authoritative look my mother had taught me because my assistant went pale. “I overstepped,” he said instantly, reaching for the box. “Forgive me.”
I pressed my fingertips to the center of my forehead, annoyed with myself, and sighed. “Leave it.”
He nodded and strode to the exit with purpose, glad to be gone.
As soon as I was alone, I flicked the switch to activate the privacy glass, leaned back in my chair, and scrubbed the stubble on my jaw with a palm. I shouldn’t torture myself. But I couldn’t help it. I popped open the box, glared at the rings, then slammed it shut.
How could she do this?
How did she not feel as empty inside as I did with four thousand miles between us? The door to my office creaked open, and it made me angry all over again.
“Not now,” I barked.
High heels answered back, and when I glanced up, my breathing stopped. The earth stopped spinning. It barely escaped my lips. “You’re here.”
She wore a black suit dress, her hair pinned back like a serious business professional, but on her feet, a new pair of red heels, even more provocative than the last. I watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she stood before me, visibly nervous.
When I’d first laid eyes on her months ago, I’d instinctively risen to my feet as if my body had known it had found its other half. I rose now deliberately, not uttering a word. Not sure what I would say anyway.
It was deathly quiet, neither of us moving. Her blue eyes had gravity I was drawn to.
“I can’t live without you,” she said.
The words shattered me and rebuilt me stronger. But her voice was off, something different. The chaos of my emotions had made my brain slow. There was nothing wrong with her voice.
“Are you attempting to speak German to me?” I asked in English.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Not that it mattered. Nothing else did after what she’d just said.
“Because you speak German.” Then she blushed, a muted shade echoing the color of her shoes. “And I want to know what you’re saying.”
My mind was cloudy with emotion. “What have you learned?”
“Not much, a few phrases. Just in case.”
“In case?”
“In case they come out of your mouth.”
It was only a few steps, and then she didn’t have to worry about words coming out of my mouth—it was too busy kissing her. My arms were no longer empty, and I enjoyed the feel of her again. The subtle tremble I could draw out of her with just a touch.