Page 37 of Fake Dating Daxton Hawk
Fair point.
Do you seriously not have anything better to do than text me?
Honestly, I’m enjoying the company. Was going to ask you the same question.
Oddly enough, I’ve enjoyed the company too. You were a good distraction for me. It’s late here, though. I guess we should call it a night. Talk later.
Sleep well.
Daxton 7:00 AM
Good morning.
Jordan 7:15 AM
Hey, I just woke up. How are you?
I’m about to leave for work. Tell me I have another day of texting with you during my meetings and I’ll be good.
Sure, but I don’t want to distract you from your work. What if you’re not paying attention to something important and end up signing off on a terrible decision for your upcoming hotel like showers with no detachable shower head. Or spa baths with no jets. Not a single woman would be pleased and I can assure you your hotel would go bankrupt.
Kitten, I promise you there’s no way I’m making a mistake like that.
Hahaha. Well, in that case, yes, you can expect periodic messages from me throughout the day. Also, kitten?
Daxton
Constant messages, please. Otherwise I might die of boredom. And I didn’t think kitten needed an explanation. Seems obvious to me.
Not obvious at all.
More fun for me then if you don’t know. So, about these constant messages, you said it yourself last night that I’m a good distraction for you.
Ok, you win. When I’m not rehearsing my new dance routine I’ll send you constant messages. Tell me what kitten means.
Not a chance.
ChapterEighteen
Daxton
My balcony doors are open, letting the sound of waves lull me into a relaxed state as I attempt to fall asleep. No surprise, I’m failing miserably. My body is itching for a cigarette. I’ve never been a heavy smoker, but Jordan thinks the habit is unattractive, so I’ve quit. I quit the second I found out who she is. Along with the withdrawals, I can’t get my brother out of my mind and the text he sent me earlier this evening, asking if I received his wedding invitation. The text went straight into the trash folder.
I glance at the clock on my bedside table, groaning when I see it’s past midnight. Sleep is not happening any time soon, so I turn a lamp on and sit up in bed with my laptop, clearing work emails. One email in particular catches my attention, sent from my personal assistant and with the subject lineJordan Hart Mastercard.
Good evening, Mr. Hawk,
The bank was in touch earlier regarding unusual spending habits yesterday from one of your business accounts. I have no reason to be alarmed, as I know this is the account you gave Jordan Hart access to, but to appease the bank’s concern, I have attached the account statement to this email for you to review. Please let me know if there is an issue and I will be in touch with the bank.
Regards,
Marissa Larson.
I open the statement and skim through the list. Each purchase is worth a couple hundred dollars. But then I stop on one purchase of fifty thousand dollars spent at Verena Valentine Designs. A grin spreads over my lips. I like that Jordan is spending my money.
I send her a text, playing with her.
Daxton
