Your Last First Kiss by Avery Maxwell EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Authors: Avery Maxwell
- Language: English
- Genre: Billionaire Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
DILLON
SIX MONTHS AGO
You’re fired.”
Of course, that’s not exactly what my childhood friend,
Ashton Westbrook, said as he sat in my chair, smiling like this should all
make sense to me. What he actually said was that he wants to diversify his
investments. He wants to invest in my future since I won’t, and when the
time comes, he may have an opportunity for me that’s a better fit than
Envision.
What he meant was, I’m fired.
Or I will be.
Sort of. I don’t think you can actually fire a partner. But if he walks
from the company, he wants to take me with him. I just don’t understand
why.
That’s not entirely true, though, is it?
Sometimes I wish I could put a muzzle on that voice in my head.
At thirty-nine years old, I live a comfortable—if boring—life, and the
company he wants to break into pieces is my cornerstone. Leaving it would
mean starting over, and the asshole won’t give me a single goddamned
detail to make the decision myself.
I haven’t really made many decisions for myself in years though. Why
the fuck do I care now?
Grabbing the down comforter with more force than necessary, I drag it
over my head to drown out that voice and to keep the frigid air away from
my skin.
It’s the middle of summer in Manhattan, but my air conditioning is run
by a demon. It’s so damned cold that my breath puffs like smoke in the air
when I get out of bed in the morning. Then I step outside and sweat my
balls off before I even get to the car.
I hate it here.
But I understand it here.
Everyone keeps to themselves and minds their own business. If you fall
on the street, chances are three out of four people will step right over you.
Harsh but true.
New York is where you go to hide in plain sight.
Rolling over, I peel the covers back just enough to squint into the room
right as the automatic timer pulls the blinds open to reveal another hazy
day. Summer in Manhattan is like Satan’s asshole. Hot, cramped, and full of
too many people willing to sell their souls.
My alarm goes off next. I bury my head deeper into the pillow but hear
the front door open, followed by the closest thing I have to a best friend
calling for me from the entryway.
“Get up, asshole. I’m ready to play,” Ryder says.
I kick back the covers with a groan. In the kitchen, metal clatters and
drawers slam. I place my feet on the floor and immediately lift them again.
The hardwood is like a block of ice. Gritting my teeth, I lower them again
because I’m not a fucking toddler and stand to a serenade of crackling and
popping. It’s my body’s way of saying it hates me as I enter my bathroom to
brush my teeth.
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