Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Can’t you text him? You need to stay the month, but we can talk about that tomorrow. I’ve got too much on my plate today.”
“No, I… I’ll just go tell him, and I’ll be back in a sec.”
Chuck points to the clock above his head. “Make it quick.”
Embarrassment is like a lead collar around my neck, but I’m also angry at Saint for forcing me to do this in the first place. Of course Chuck wouldn’t agree to let me go. Especially at this time of year. It isn’t fair of me to even propose it, since it’s such a busy time, and could mean Chuck would have to work late—
“Done?” Saint asks as I walk up to him. He’s sipping his coffee by the car with a smile so handsome I can’t initially bring myself to express my anger, but some things need to be said.
“No, it’s not ‘done’! He says I have to stay for my shift. And the rest of the month, really.” I huff in frustration. “I told you it’s not so easy.”
Saint cuts me off with a snort. “You told me yourself he can let you go at any time, as per your contract. Why wouldn’t it work the other way around?”
“This isn’t funny! What am I supposed to do? Just not show up?”
Saint gives my hand a squeeze and pushes his cup into my hand. “You’re too precious. Wait here.”
I’m frozen and only look after him when the door of the store closes behind him. For a moment, I itch to follow, to tell him that I better stick to my schedule, since we don’t even know if he can fulfill his obligation to me until Christmas Day, but that would have spoiled his fantasies about us being meant for each other. He didn’t outright say it using those words, but it’s definitely in the subtext of his deluded actions, and while I intend to wriggle out of our agreement once the time is right, until then it’s in my best interest to play along.
As minutes pass, I’m beginning to feel nervous. He’s not gonna… kill Chuck, is he?
I take a few steps toward the shop, but then Saint comes out and gives me one of the handsome smiles that grabbed my attention when I first met him. Which was only two days ago but feels like a much longer time.
He grabs his coffee out of my hand and passes me an envelope. “That’s last month’s pay and a bit extra for the few days you already worked in December. And you’re done with this place, of course.”
I stare at the envelope in silence, then glance at the glass door through which I spot Chuck kicking a box.
I follow Saint to the car. “Wh-what? How?”
He winks at me. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to deal with people like him. You don’t owe him anything.”
I can’t help but smile to myself as I close my seatbelt. My life is spiraling out of control, and I don’t hate it.
As soon as we drive off toward my place, his hand is firmly on my thigh.
“Who taught you how to be like this?” I ask, watching his elegant profile as we drive past a group of teens in Santa hats.
“Like what? Suave? Good-looking? Effective at negotiation?” Saint asks and squeezes my knee with pride. After all, I am his trophy.
I snort in disbelief. So full of himself, and yet, doesn’t he deserve to be? “So… uncompromising.”
“Oh, I can compromise for the right reasons. But I always care first about my interests, and that of those I care about,” he says, offering me a meaningful glance, as if he really believes we’re in a relationship, not tied by a sex-for-revenge kind of agreement. Which, I won’t lie, has its perks. I’ve gotten the good bits so far, but that did not mean the catches won’t eventually fly my way.
“I mean, you weren’t born an assassin.” I prod, but I’m not sure if he’s evading the question on purpose or really not understanding what I’m trying to find out.
“Oh. That’s all on my uncle. I think, for a while he regretted taking in a very curious teenager, but once he brought me with him to be a lookout, and things went awry, I saw too much, and… well, he decided to make me his apprentice.”
So the uncle wasn’t a private investigator either. Got it.
We arrive at my building in no time, and I still can’t believe I’m about to move in with this man. I’ve not even let anyone into my apartment since I moved in, so this is a massive step for me. And yet… I feel fine about it.
“You were just… okay with that? How many people have you killed since then?”
We leave our coffees in the car and step out of the vehicle. He’s taking his time with the answer so intensely I can almost hear him chewing through my words.