Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“You truly are a disgrace, Chiara.”
“Says the woman who ordered a hit on me,” I say, reaching for her drink. “You done with this?”
Her face scrunches and she goes to push the sticky glass away, but I pull on the small coaster beneath and watch with fascinating delight as the glass tips over, sending a wave of beer cascading over the edge of the bar and right into her lap.
Monica screeches, throwing herself to her feet. “You fucking bitch.”
“Oh no,” I gasp, holding my hand to my mouth in fake shock. “Is that a Givenchy jacket? You better hurry and get that to the dry cleaner before it stains.”
Her face turns beet red, and as cheap beer rushes off her, she steps closer to the bar, her horrid stare locked on mine. “You’re dead. You better watch your back, bitch.”
“Who, me?” I ask. “What are you going to do, Monica? I’m out. You can’t touch me without causing a scene. It’s too messy and you know it. The police will be crawling all over it, and now that you’ve made a public declaration in an establishment covered with surveillance footage, all arrows point to you. But sure, give it your best crack. I’ll be right here waiting.”
Monica clenches her jaw and whips around as she grabs her designer bag off the bar. She goes to storm away, probably angling for something dramatic, but I call after her instead. “Oh, Monica,” I say in a sugary-sweet tone. “It really was lovely seeing you again, but keep in mind that while I might be out here working some lousy bar, one call to Killian is all it would take to end you. That’s assuming he doesn’t already know and is waiting for his moment to strike. Exciting, isn’t it?”
Her face drains of all color, and for a moment, I fear I’m going to have to scrape her off the dirty ground, but she quickly recovers and whips around before hightailing it out of here.
One of my security guards—Travis, I think his name was—follows her out, hopefully making sure she actually gets in her car and leaves, while I remain behind the bar, cringing at my boss as he gestures toward the mop and bucket. But despite the mess I’m left with, nothing has ever been so satisfying.
My other guard hovers way too close for the rest of my shift, and by the time I’m closing up and stepping out onto the street, it’s well past two in the morning, and yet I find myself frozen to the spot. My gaze lingers on the dark street, and all I can picture is the asshole who snatched me.
My body shakes as the trauma of that night bubbles up, leaving me rooted to the sidewalk in fear. Despite being the type of woman who doesn’t like to ask for handouts, I can’t help but glance toward the two men lingering in the familiar SUV.
They watch me through the open window, probably wondering why the hell I haven’t made a move yet. “You guys are heading back to hover in front of my apartment building like fucking stalkers, right?”
“Nowhere else we’d rather be,” Travis mutters as he rolls his eyes.
“Would it be completely inappropriate if I rode back with you?”
“Thank fuck! I thought you’d never ask,” Travis says with a heavy sigh of relief. “Do you have any idea how frustrating it is having to roll behind you at a snail’s pace? Don’t get me wrong, the view from behind was great, but goddamn, you need to put a little more motivation into your walk.”
“Fuck, man,” the other guard says, slapping his colleague’s chest. “Are you trying to get us fired? Why the hell are you commenting on the view from behind? The boss is going to fucking slaughter you.”
I roll my eyes as I cross the street and help myself into the back of the SUV. “What the boss doesn’t know won’t hurt him . . . or you for that matter.”
I laugh to myself at my lame attempt at being funny, but truth be told, no joke is ever funny if your heart isn’t in it.
The driver takes off, and within moments we’re pulling to a stop outside my apartment complex, and the guard whose name I haven’t gotten, looks back at me. “You good to make it up to your apartment or do you need one of us to accompany you?”
I give him a tight smile, grateful for their presence tonight. “I’ll be good. Just make sure nobody attempts to snatch me off the street and put me into a human trafficking ring.”
“Fucking hell,” Travis mutters, sounding shocked by how blasé I speak about it, though he doesn’t know the way my chest sinks with hollowness every time the images of that place flash in my mind.