Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
“What kind of business?”
“We’re not talking about it.” Because, of course, he’s always got the final say, doesn’t he? I’m still not a massive fan of this girl popping up out of nowhere and having the nerve to look at me like I’m an intruder, though I can relate. She’s stronger than me, because I would’ve told him to fuck himself by now.
“I really am busy,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do. I know it seems like I’m giving you the brush off —”
“Is it because of her? The girl?”
Dammit, I’m holding my breath, waiting to hear what he says. Is it because of me? I should know better, shouldn’t I? But I’m a sucker, too, and I want him to say yes. Or at least, I want to hear it in his voice that I mean something, and she’s only complicating things by showing her face around here.
“Her? No,” he tells her with a laugh that squeezes my heart like a clenched fist. “She’s nobody. That’s not what I’m getting at.”
Well, you knew better, didn’t you? Sure, but the pain in my chest tells a different story. I mean, I have no illusions about how he feels about me. He’s never tried to hide it. I might be good enough to get his dick hard, but that’s where it ends. I’m an assignment. A burden he can never get rid of.
Why did he have to say it like that?
“I have to get back to work. It was good to see you, really, but please, don’t come back here like this. It’s too complicated to explain. I just need you to trust me, okay?”
“Yeah,” she says with a defeated little sigh, making me feel sorry for her again. “Sure. I’ll trust you.” I don’t back away from the window until I see the top of her head and watch her cross the street. Her head hangs lower than before, and her shoulders are up around her ears. He hurt her. I’m not really surprised, he’s good at that.
The front door closes loudly, but I don’t hear anything else from him. No cursing, no muttering to himself. All he does is climb the stairs and head back to his office without hesitating.
How does he do it? This girl obviously meant something to him back in the day — okay, so they were kids, and feelings change over time. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s how a person sounds when they’re trying to hide what they’re really feeling. I’ve practically made a career out of it in my life.
And she was trying like hell to hide how she felt about him.
Clearly, I’m not the only girl he’s ever left wondering what I did wrong and why he decided to push me away.
CHAPTER 19
ROMERO
Why?
That single word bangs against my skull like a drumbeat. Loud, insistent, enough to make me want to scream and tear the room apart with my bare hands.
Why? Why did she have to come here? Why can’t the past stay where it is? Is that too fucking much to ask? For the past to stay in the past and leave me the fuck alone?
And why did Tatum have to see her? That’s the question that sticks its blade in me the deepest. Why does she have to know Becky exists? It’s only a matter of time before she starts bombarding me with stupid questions and assumptions – she’s probably already got a thousand of them in that head of hers. Probably telling herself all kinds of absurd stories because she’s got nothing better to do than think. I guess I can’t blame her for that. I’m the one who told her not to leave the house, and she’s hardly got anything to do. It only makes sense that my rules would come back to bite me in the ass.
I was on a roll, too. Coordinating with the Italians, putting together what we’re preparing for Jeff. I was ready to give Callum good news tonight. To tell him it won’t be much longer before his little girl can come home – if she wants to, that is. I don’t have any control over that. I have no control over her.
Who am I kidding? I don’t have control over a damn thing. I can’t even hold the past at arm’s length. It’s going to show up anywhere it feels like, and when it does, it will always be at the worst possible time.
And it’s going to make damn sure to stir up every painful memory you’ve spent years trying to move on from.
It also made sure to completely kill any chance I had of getting through the task list I set for myself last night before catching a few hours of sleep before my Italian contacts began reaching out. There I was, trying to keep a sense of structure so I wouldn’t lose myself thinking about Tatum. Obsessing over her. Blaming myself for all the fuck-ups so far.