Home > Books > The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(106)

The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(106)

Author:T.L. Swan

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s very deep. Haven’t you noticed where his interests lie?”

“No, where do his interests lie?”

“In the art world. He will marry someone super-unique. That’s why he guards his private life so fiercely, so that all these little flings he has with bimbos along the way won’t hurt his chances when he meets the one that he wants.”

My heart drops. “I guess.”

I sip my tea . . . am I one of the said bimbos now? His words from earlier come back to me and I feel sick.

For God’s sake don’t look at me like that, I’m not in the fucking mood.

“Kate, wake up,” Daniel says as he sits on the bed.

I try to pry my eyes open. I hardly slept a wink last night worrying about Elliot all night long.

He didn’t call me, I didn’t hear from him, and I have no fucking idea what’s going on between us, but it’s not okay how he spoke to me yesterday.

“Look at this,” Daniel snaps.

He holds a folded newspaper up in front of my face.

“What?” I frown.

“Fucking look at it.”

I screw up my face as I focus my eyes and read the headline.

Elliot Miles leaves gala night with Varuscka Vermont.

Huh?

I sit up and snatch the paper from him.

My eyes read the headline again and I look at the picture.

Elliot is in black tie, and he and a dark-haired beautiful woman are in the back of his Bentley . . . Andrew is driving.

“When was this photo taken?” I ask.

“Last night.”

My horrified eyes meet Daniel’s. “What the fuck?”

Chapter 15

I storm up the road like a monster, my inner rage at an all-time high.

How dare he?

How fucking dare he?

Okay, so he didn’t want anything more . . . man up and tell me, you fucking spineless dipshit.

Last time I checked, when you spend most of a week inside someone’s body, you at least owe them a simple conversation.

Ugh, I’m furious. I can feel my blood boiling under my skin.

I guess this is the mission accomplished, given that I dated Elliot to try and feel something.

And I feel something for sure: thermonuclear atomic rage.

I march into my building.

“Good morning, nice day.” The doorman smiles.

Is it?

I fake a smile and keep walking. I can’t even make myself lie and agree with him.

Stay out of my way world, I want blood.

At 1 p.m., my email pings.

Kate,

I would like to see you in my office immediately.

Elliot.

Ha, I bet you would . . . you stupid fuck.

I reply:

Elliot,

Sorry, I am too busy.

Please email me your request and I will attend to it as soon as possible.

Kate.

A reply bounces straight back.