Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
As soon as we are beside my car, I halt my steps and look up at the sky. The clouds above loom. A storm is brewing. I inhale deeply, begging it to calm me, and it does. It also has reality crashing down on me. The city air slaps at my face as I lower my gaze.
Fuck.
Now back in the here and now and no longer lost in my fury, I realize I might have gone a bit overboard, but fuck.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Skye hisses under her breath, and now it’s her turn to grab me by my arm and pull me to a small alleyway behind her building. “Your tantrum is completely unwarranted.” She puffs out her chest, her face turning a red shade from the heavy breath she’s letting out.
“You work for me, Skye, and I don’t take kindly to being dismissed.”
“You know what that sounds like?” She glares at me. “That sounds like a you problem. I know you think the world revolves around you, but spoiler alert, it doesn’t. Believe it or not, I have a personal life.”
My teeth grit together, and I want to throttle whoever she’s getting personal with.
“Calling your boyfriend while on the clock—”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have a boyfriend.” She cuts me off, and normally, I would be pissed that she did, but hearing her words has me exhaling.
She starts to pace, her steps angry and frustrated, and for some reason, watching her, has the pent-up emotions leaving my body.
I would laugh, but something tells me if I did, she would reach into my jacket, grab my gun, and shoot me in the face.
So instead, I school my features and wait for her to calm down. It might take a while, seeing as she’s cursing under her breath. I swear, if possible, smoke would billow from her ears. That’s how animated she’s being.
I’m not sure how long I stand and watch her, but eventually, her steps slow. I lift my hands in a peace offering. “I might have been out of line.”
“Might have been?” She scoffs.
“Let’s start over.”
She shuffles on her feet and appears to be considering my words. “I don’t know if I can.”
I step toward her, looking down at her petite form. “I was wrong to barge in—I assumed it was work.”
“It wasn’t. It was personal, but it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t getting anywhere anyway.”
Cocking my head, I look into her eyes. “Can I help?”
“No.”
“Skye . . .” I draw out.
“I’m good, thanks.” She’s being stubborn. It’s cute.
“You can be like this, and sure, maybe I deserve it.”
“Maybe?”
“Fine . . . ” I allow myself to smirk. “I deserve it, but regardless of that fact, I have something you want.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“The ability to get shit done. I have a staff of ruthless men willing to do anything to get shit done. So, Skye . . . what’s it going to be? You have two choices.”
“And those are?” A muscle quivers in her jaw. She’s worried, or at least, that’s what I’m gathering from the small tremor I see.
“Put aside your hatred for me.”
“I don’t hate you.” Her cheeks color fiercely as a stain of scarlet appears on them. Interesting. Not the time, Tobias.
“Be that as it may, your choice is to either take my help or not.”
She nibbles at her lower lip, but that’s not what has my eyes going wide. It’s the way she absentmindedly starts to rub her finger over her tattoo.
The paper plane. Why a paper plane?
“What it’s going to be?” I force myself to ask again rather than spend my time micromanaging her every move.
“Fine.” She stops and looks down at the floor. Her brows have pulled together. I wait for her to continue. Her body stiffens before she speaks. “I need a favor.”
“Okay. And what would that be?”
She peers at me, and I wonder if she is inspecting me. What is she looking for?
A tell.
A lie.
Skye Matthews acts like she’s making a deal with the devil. In a way, she’s not wrong.
“Before I ask, are you going to demand payment?”
“No, Skye. I won’t.”
She lets out a sigh. “Fine. I have a series of numbers that I need looking into.”
“Any more details?”
“No. I’ll just email you the paper. I made a copy. I think it’s hospital tests . . . but I’m not sure. I mean, for all I know, it’s Swiss bank accounts.”
“Okay.”
Now that she’s asked, she looks down uncomfortably. Whatever Skye’s asking of me is important. This is personal.
I find I want to help her with this, and the crazy part of me that wants to help her with this also doesn’t have any ulterior motives. I don’t want to do this for myself. I want to help her. Which should feel strange to me, but it doesn’t. I find that regardless of everything, regardless of the fact that she doesn’t remember, and regardless of my initial need to make her pay for that, I see the pain in her eyes, and I don’t like it.