Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“You’ll regret this,” he says, trembling with rage.
“I don’t think so.”
Turning my back on him, I walk to the elevator. From this conversation, I know two things. One, Alexis is in trouble, or my father wouldn’t have come crawling back on his knees begging for help. Two, my father still doesn’t give a shit about me. If he did, he’d never suggest I let Alexis worm his way into the business. We both know how that will end up. The diamond business will revert back to the mob, leaving me with nothing and no way to provide for Zoe or myself.
I slam the button to call down the elevator and get inside when it opens. I’m just in time to see the Mercedes pull out of its parking space when the doors close. Taking out my phone, I type a memo to the security overseeing the building. From now on, no one related to me is allowed inside. When you’ve broken away from the mob, your biggest enemies are your own family.
Chapter 25
Zoe
I try not to think about last night or where that leaves me in the unequal standing of my unconventional relationship with Maxime. Instead, I focus on finishing the dress, rounding it off with thick stitching around the lapel and cuffs in the same color as the fabric.
Since I don’t have labels, I embroider my initials into the flap under the collar. The rest of the morning I spend setting up a simple website on my new laptop. I keep my CV short, mentioning my passions and vision. Using my phone, I take a photo of the dress on the dress form. An application allows me to change the dress form into a digital model. I choose a woman with a pale complexion to show off the darker fabric of the dress. Her face is avant-garde and as harsh as the simple lines of the dress, a perfect marriage. Then I upload the image onto my site and put a ridiculously high price on the dress.
By the afternoon, I’ve designed a basic logo with my initials and set up social media accounts. Since it’s a beautiful day, I have a quick salad for lunch in the summerhouse before I make a few rough sketches I upload to my new website and accounts. My last task is reaching out to a few industry related accounts, sending them private viewing invitations. Happy with the day’s work, I tidy up my material and the apartment before pouring myself a glass of rosé to take a brief break before starting dinner.
The buzz of the intercom in the kitchen is such a foreign sound it makes me jump. I lift the receiver and ask cautiously, “Yes?”
“Zee?”
I go still at the sound of that voice. Impossible. It can’t be.
“Zee, it’s Damian. Can you let me in?”
“How—” Damian? What is he doing here? “What—”
Oh, my God. My brother is here. Joy mixed with nerves send me into a flat spin. There can only be one reason why he’d be here.
“Of course,” I say, pressing the button to open the door in the street for him.
In the time he takes to come up, I leave the wine on the counter and rush to the dressing room to check my reflection in the mirror. I’m dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and socks. My hair is tied in a high ponytail on my head. I don’t have a stitch of make-up on my face, but my cheeks are flushed red from the shock and excitement. Grabbing the make-up brush, I apply a few swipes of powder under each eye to hide the dark rings that make my skin appear bruised. I don’t want Damian to see the evidence of my stress and lack of sleep.
I barely make it back to the lounge before the bell rings. Flinging the door open, I jump into my brother’s arms.
He stumbles a step and regains his balance with a chuckle. “You’ll take us both to the ground.”
Holding him at arm’s length, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
His smile stretches. “Can I at least come in before answering your questions?”
“Oh, my God. Where are my manners?” Hooking my arm through his, I lead him inside. “When did you get here?”
“I just landed.”
I shut the door and lock it. Motioning to the laptop bag slung over his shoulder, I ask, “No luggage?”
“I’m not staying.”
I stare at him. “Are you telling me you flew eleven hours and you’re not sleeping over?”
“I have a flight back tonight.”
“Damian.” I search his face. “I’m more happy than I can ever express that you’re here, but why would you do that? It’s crazy.”
His brow pleats. “I didn’t want to leave Lina alone for long.”
“How is she?” I release him to search his face. “Will she be all right without you?”