Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“It’s me,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Hi. I guess Jake told you the news?” Her voice tipped up again.
“He did,” I said grimly. “How do we get out of it?” I paced the length of my back patio. It was only five, but the sun was already sinking in the sky. The night was unseasonably warm for mid-November, even for LA. It would be a good night to bring my computer and a bottle of scotch outside and knock out a couple hours of work.
“I don’t think we can,” Selena said. She was doing something in the background. I could hear cabinets opening and closing.
“What? Why not?” I frowned, my plans for the night vanishing as I realized this little problem might not be so easy to solve.
“My sister really wants to go.”
“Your sister wants to go?” I repeated. “Why the hell does she want to hang out with your ex and his family? What about your family? Are you two orphans or something?”
There was a long pause in which I heard what sounded like drawers opening and closing. The silence seemed deliberate, like Selena wanted me to hear my words replayed in my head so I could hear what an asshole I sounded like. I could hear it. It didn’t bother me. The only thing that bothered me was the idea of Selena at Thanksgiving. Her wide brown eyes, her creamy skin, her soft hair, the sinful, curvy body that I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Bothered wasn’t the right word. It would be fucking torture.
“We’re not orphans,” Selena finally said. “Emotionally, maybe. But I think Christi and Jake are…” she trailed off.
“Fucking?” I asked in disbelief.
“Jesus,” Selena said, exasperated. “Is that all you think people do?”
Maybe I had once, but Selena had brutally dispelled that notion. I ran my hand through my hair, wishing it were long enough to pull out in frustration. If Jake and Christi were seeing one another, it meant there was almost no way to get out of spending Thanksgiving with Selena.
“Look, I can say I got sick,” Selena said after a moment.
“And spend Thanksgiving alone?” I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. “No. There has to be another way out of this.” I heard the metallic sound of silverware being shuffled around. “Are you emptying the dishwasher?”
“No, I’m making a sandwich.”
“Why?”
“Dinner.”
“You’re having a sandwich for dinner?” I repeated, my pacing coming to a stop. “A sandwich isn’t dinner.”
“I’m also having chips and an apple.”
I was speechless. “That’s what a third grader eats for lunch. Not what an adult has for dinner.”
“Okay, well, it’s what I’m having for dinner,” Selena bristled. “Christi is the cook around here, and she’s out. Probably with Jake.”
I heard another drawer shut, harder this time. What the fuck kind of sandwich was she making that it required this many cabinets and drawers to be banged around? And what was my nephew doing getting involved with a pregnant woman while he was in med school? I could think of a few worse combinations, but not many.
“Save the sandwich for later,” I said abruptly. “I’m making you dinner.”
This time, the pause was so long that I thought the call had dropped, but the screen was still counting up the seconds. We’d been on the phone for less than five minutes. The irony wasn’t lost on me that I’d called to disinvite her from a dinner and now I was doing the exact opposite. It wasn’t ideal, but I needed to know more about Jake’s new girlfriend, and SelenaSelena was going to tell me.
“Selena?” I barked impatiently as I headed inside to check my own cabinets. I had two filets thawed in the refrigerator. They needed to sit for an hour, and then we could eat by seven.
“You want me to come to your house?” she said cautiously.
I didn’t, but it was better than risking seeing someone from the company who would rightfully wonder what the fuck the CEO was doing at dinner with a junior associate. “It’s the best place,” I said gruffly.
“For what?”
“For discretion.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Selena said, but the insane machinations of her sandwich making process had gone quiet. “You and I…” she trailed off.
“I’m not going to touch you, Selena. I just need to talk to you, and this is better than listening to you tear apart your fucking kitchen. Incidentally, have you ever made a sandwich before? No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. Are you coming or not?”
Another insanely long delay, and then finally, “Okay. Send me the address.”
18
SELENA
Of course Dominic lived in a house that my childhood home could fit in three times over. It wasn’t Mrs. Kloss’s mansion, but it wasn’t a split level in the suburbs either. It was a Spanish-style single family house that had a high wall around it. I shivered a little as the gate locked shut behind my car. It must be something to be able to lock the world out. That was what money did for you. Too little, and you lived in a small apartment with locks that didn’t really lock with Clyde and Maribel fighting above. Get enough, and you got a three-bedroom apartment in a nice neighborhood with functioning safety features. Too much and you felt like you needed to live on a gated compound.