Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
His lips pulled back, and he locked his gaze with mine. He started to rock, his stare hot and intense, claiming me with his mind like his body wasn’t enough. He didn’t fuck me the way he had earlier. He kept it slow because that was what I wanted, to take our time and really feel each other, to feel his heartbeat with mine.
He never said the words back. He vowed he would never tell me he loved me. Would never ask me to marry him. He seemed to keep that promise by maintaining his silence. He didn’t reciprocate my feelings, but that didn’t bother me because he didn’t turn cold, didn’t push me away. He stayed in the moment with me, desiring me just as much as he did before. He still made love to me as if he felt the same way—even if he didn’t.
19
BARTHOLOMEW
I smoked the cigar and stared out the window.
The prime minister was at my mercy, and I continued to grind him until he had nothing left to give. But that expiration date would arrive soon, and the new frontier I’d acquired would close permanently.
I’d slept like shit last night, so I was awake in the middle of the day, looking at the tourists crawling all over the sidewalks like the goddamn plague. The rich always retreated to their summer homes in Lake Como to get away from all the bullshit. I stayed because I didn’t have the luxury of working from my computer.
Bleu entered the parlor and took a seat at my side.
I gestured to the box of cigars, offering him one.
He didn’t take it. “It’s happening tonight.”
I took a deep drag before I released the heavy cloud of smoke. “How many guys?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know that either. I heard from Nico, who heard from Tyler, who heard from Cameron. This information isn’t solid, but we should take it seriously. He must intend to get you alone—or he’s paid off your guys.”
If that were true, Bleu was the only man I could trust. “I’ll be at the bar tonight—make sure the right people know.”
“What’s your plan?”
“To deal with him—one-on-one.”
I sat at the bar alone, in my t-shirt and jeans, sitting on the stool with a cool glass in my hand. There were a few other people there, people who should leave soon because they would probably end up shot if they didn’t.
I kept my back to the window, knowing it was bulletproof because I owned the place.
My phone vibrated on the counter. I miss you.
I hadn’t spoken to Laura in a couple days. Not because I wanted to avoid her, but because I’d been too busy with work. Sometimes the nights were quiet with inactivity, but then there were other nights that lasted days—like this one. I miss you too.
Then why aren’t you here?
I wished I were there, buried deep between my woman’s thighs, but I was stuck on a stiff stool in a quiet bar, waiting for a hit on my life. I have shit that requires my attention. I’ll come when I can. I would always tell her the truth. If I died tonight, then this would be our last conversation.
You aren’t avoiding me because of what I said?
I stared at the question on the screen, feeling her insecurities in the words. I’m not that kind of man. It took a lot more than three little words to scare me off. Her feelings didn’t intimidate me.
The door to the bar opened—and Silas walked inside.
I tapped my fingers on the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “Listen to me carefully. After you make this guy a drink, excuse yourself to the back and don’t come out again.”
His eyes widened and he stilled, like my words paralyzed him.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Silas came around the corner, a fat smile on his face. “Drinking alone?”
“My favorite way to drink.”
He kept a stool between us and slammed his hand on the bar. “Vodka cranberry.”
Piss juice.
With shaky hands, the bartender poured the drink, spilled a little on the counter, and then placed it in front of Silas.
“You going to clean that up?” Silas demanded.
“Of course…” He wiped it up with a rag. “I need to get more napkins from the back.” He walked off and left us alone.
I drank my scotch and ignored him. “What do you want, Silas?”
He sat on the stool, his body pivoted toward mine. “Who said I want anything?”
“Don’t you have work to do?” I’d put him on assignment this week, and he’d clearly chosen to disregard it. I was aware of that, but I pretended not to be.
Silas turned quiet, my comment getting under his skin.
Exactly as I’d intended.
I pivoted on the stool and met his look head on. “So, what’s your plan? To shoot me? Who wears a jacket in July?” He had a small pistol in his left pocket, so he could casually slip his hand inside and pull the trigger without me knowing. Oldest trick in the book.