Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“If he hadn’t said it right to my face, I’d figure it was just some joke. But he wasn’t kidding, Jams. He was dead serious.”
She goes quiet, chewing on her lip, and throws back her wine. She finishes it in two big gulps before hunching her shoulders, shaking her head. “This is crazy. He can’t really expect to blackmail you into marrying him, can he?” Anger creeps into her voice. “That freaking sick bastard. This is disgusting, like seriously, this is so gross. How can he get away with it?”
“He’s a Crowley,” I say, spreading my hands. She’s right though, this is beyond gross.
“Screw him. I am so pissed right now.”
“I appreciate your anger, but please don’t rush off and do something stupid.”
“Like rip out his spleen?” She bangs her fist on the bar. “That fucker!”
I rub her shoulder. “Easy there.”
“What are you going to do? How are you so calm?”
“It helps that I’m not going to marry him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
She gives me a hard look. “I never said you should. I never would!” She softens a touch. “It’s one thing to let him invest. But marry him? People don’t do stuff like that.”
“Most people aren’t in the Crowley family, I guess.”
Jamila glances at Ash where she’s taking orders from a few tough-looking guys sitting in a booth. “Those Crowley boys are extremely weird,” she admits. “That selfish piece of shit. Acting like you’re a clause in an investment contract or something.”
We lapse into silence. I sip my seltzer, but it’s not helping. I wish I could drink, though the baby means I can’t even do that anymore. I told Jams my stomach’s bothering me, but soon she’s going to wonder why I haven’t had any alcohol at all, which isn’t normal, for me anyway. There are going to be questions, a bunch of questions I can’t answer.
All of it goes back to Nolan and that one terrible mistake.
“We should talk to her.” Jams leans close and puts an arm across my shoulders. “I take back what I said before.”
I lean into her, grateful for the comfort. “Ash?”
“She can help.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “That’ll only make it worse. You were right.”
Jams sounds frustrated. “Keely, Nolan’s trying to force you to marry him. We need help.”
“You know what’ll happen. Just like you said. She’ll go to her husband, he’ll go to Nolan, and Nolan will come to us with some new, insane demand. That or he’ll do something even more drastic.”
“Are you afraid he’ll hurt you?” she whispers, sounding serious.
“No,” I admit, shaking my head. “No, it’s not like that.”
“Are you sure? Sane guys don’t blackmail girls into marrying them.”
“He’s just trying to find meaning in his life and going about it all the wrong way. But he’s not going to hurt me.” I have no clue why I’m defending him, but there’s no part of me that’s genuinely afraid of physical violence.
“We need help.” Jams sighs, hunching forward. I lean away from her, arms wrapped around myself. “What the hell did we do to earn the ire of a Crowley brother?”
“I slept with him,” I say, shrugging a bit. “And apparently, I did a really good job.”
She laughs a little too loudly before watching Ash hustle past again. “Look, Keel, I think Ash needs to hear about this.” She holds up a hand before I can protest. “But I won’t tell her, okay? I need you to do it, but I won’t force you. Just please, tell her before things get too bad, okay?”
“I can’t promise anything.” I stare down at my glass. “I don’t want to run to Ash every time there’s a problem in my life.”
“In the meantime, we need to start thinking up contingency plans. Some way to convince Nolan to let us stay that doesn’t involve you wearing his ring and breeding his little Irish mobster babies.”
“Definitely don’t want that.” I grin sheepishly, very much pregnant with his Irish mobster baby already.
Ash appears at my elbow. She leans against the counter, sighing heavily. She looks exhausted. I’d never know she was worth millions, based on how hard she’s working. But that’s Ash: no matter how much money she makes, she’ll always roll up her sleeves and do what needs doing. “What the heck are you two talking about?” she asks, shoving more drink orders at Bernie. “You guys look like you’re having a pretty serious heart-to-heart.”
“Just donut glazes,” I say, forcing a cheery tone in my voice. “She wants more fruit-based, but I like the classics.”
“Can’t go wrong with the classics,” Ash says, only half paying attention. “God, how did you two do this every night? It’s a madhouse in here.”
“Raw talent,” Jams points out. “Also, you pay well.”
“That’s right, I do,” Ash says, winking at her. “Anyway, looking forward to your shop opening. Let me know if you need anything. I gotta go take more orders before this place turns into a riot.” She hurries away after squeezing my arm.