Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
I haven't got a clue what he wants.
"I'm sure you'll do well as an actress," Diablo says. "A woman as beautiful as you are won't have trouble finding work."
She turns to me, looking for something, but I'm not sure what it is.
"She was amazing as Ophelia in high school," I say.
"Your high school put on Hamlet?" he asks.
She laughs. "It was an advanced school. We were very competitive."
"And you played Juliette the next year?" he asks, genuinely interested. Or pretending.
She smiles. "If only… I didn't make the cut. I was the nurse."
He nods knowingly.
But I haven't got a clue what he knows. And I don't care. I hate these assholes.
I can't let it show. I can't feel it, think it, see it.
There must be something else. Some way I can find a quarter of her charm.
That's it—
"She was better than the lead. But I am biased." I turn my body toward hers. Take her hand. Then the other. My next inhale is easier. Then I pull her closer and my exhale is effortless. "I can never take my eyes off you."
"Shep…" Her voice gets breathy. "This isn't the place—"
"I don't care." I pull her body into mine. Her pelvis, her stomach, her chest, her lips.
She tastes good, like tea and honey.
Her hands go to my shoulders. One curls around the back of my neck. Then it's her fingers in my hair.
Her touch is soft. Tender. Loving.
Fuck.
My body gets light.
She pulls back with a heavy sigh.
For a moment, it's just the two of us. The desire flowing between us.
And something more. A need for something deep inside her. Not just her admiration, respect, obedience.
Her love.
Then Marcus interrupts and I'm a lead weight again.
"We found something." He claps his hands together. "Is Earl Grey all right?" He says it like it's some sort of exotic tea, not the most popular scented black tea in existence.
"Yes, thanks." She smiles, takes my hand, turns to the main room. "Where does this tour start?"
"Of course." Marcus beams. "This is one of my favorite locations." He motions follow me.
Diablo stays behind us.
Jasmine stays glued to my side.
I let Marcus speak as he leads us down the hallway, around the corner. To the room where his staff melts cocoa.
A giant silver machine—like some kind of oversized mixing bowl—spins dark chocolate in slow spirals. The entire room smells like cocoa. Rich, sweet, a little floral.
This isn't where they make the chocolate itself. No, they melt big blocks from a factory in Belgium. They take pure blocks of cocoa, add sugar, press them into bars with candy, nuts, essence of orange.
Sometimes, they make shapes. Hearts, roses, tiny little Coliseums.
"We're going to make bars," he exclaims, like a teacher trying to convince students their homework is fun. "I had my assistant refresh me last night. I'm ready to give the lesson myself."
Diablo nods his approval. "My wife adores your chocolate." He practically drops to his knees to kiss Marcus's ass.
"Oh, I hate to say I'm not familiar with your brand." Jasmine holds a perfect poker face. Despite the logo plastered in every conceivable location, she sells her lack of knowledge of their company. "I have to admit. I have a soft spot for a local brand." She names a craft chocolate brand in San Francisco. "Do you know them? Well… local to the Bay. I haven't been there in some time."
"I do." Marcus frowns. "They make an excellent bar. A lot of unique flavors. Do you have a favorite?"
"Oh, I'm not sophisticated. I like everything." She smiles. "As long as it's dark."
"As dark as my soul." I try to lighten the mood.
She follows my lead. "Do you sell one hundred percent cocoa?"
"Yes." Marcus forces a smile. He's not all that amused. But he is looking at us differently. Like he believes us. "But only for baking."
"Is there something different about it? That prevents people from eating it?"
"Only the bitterness," he says.
"I'm used to that." She laughs and squeezes my hand.
I squeeze it back. "You can't even drink coffee. How will you have pure cocoa?"
She turns to Marcus. "We can have a taste test. What do you think? Which is more bitter: espresso or chocolate?"
"I'll have my assistant bring espresso when we make bars," he says. "Though, in my opinion, it is the espresso. I can tolerate pure chocolate more easily."
"Will they kick you out of Rome for that?" She looks to Diablo. "Do you like your coffee sweet?"
"Like I like my women." He smiles. "As sweet as pie."
She turns to me. "I like my men… tall, dark, and strong… But I can't stand coffee. With cream and sugar, it's tolerable. But I have to add so much it barely tastes like coffee."
"Strong?" I ask.
"You aren't?" Her fingers curl around my wrist. She motions to my arm. Telling me to put on some display of strength.