Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Meanwhile, he’s off helping the families of murder victims. He’s a confusing person and his words replay in my mind: In case that conversation you heard with the DA makes you think that I’m a good guy deep down inside, I’m not. Okay he’s not, but he’s also the man holding the key to my future. If he doesn’t believe I’m with him, really with him, I might as well leave now. The way I handle him could influence how he handles the meeting with our staff.
I start to call him and decide he could be in his meeting with the DA. The one where he’s helping families of murder victims free of charge. Good guy. Bad guy. I don’t know. It can’t matter. I type a text: I found out about Japan. I should have known. I know you think I’m going to call my father and my brother, but I’m not. And for the record, you might not be a good guy, but you’re doing a good thing for those victims’ families. I’m sure it must come with some personal gain, but I’ll pretend it does not. It helps me to know the man I’m in business with has now helped them. Because I have a moral compass, even if you do not.
I read the very long message and decide not to send it. Instead, I return messages, answer emails and deal with a number of “problems” Sallie sends my way. Not for one second is my mind fully off Reid and my family, or some combination. The truth is, I’m mostly replaying every word I spoke with Reid. He doesn’t trust my family, and my father knows what I’m dealing with, and he hasn’t called me.
It’s a full hour later when I look at that message again and it pretty much sums up everything I need to say to Reid, and a text message with that man is safer than a conversation that gets too close and too personal. I hit send and set my phone aside without expecting a reply, and yet I am waiting for one. A full sixty seconds pass before he does indeed reply: And your moral compass allowed you to cuff me and leave me to suffer? Don’t say I had my hand. It wasn’t you.
I stare at that message and I don’t like the warm heat pooling low in my belly or the memories of me on top of him before I cuffed him. I’d almost convinced myself I could finish what we started and cuff him later. I hesitated. I am supposed to be trying to build a bridge before the staff meeting, but this man pushes my buttons and I just can’t help myself. I reply with: I liked cuffing you. In fact, it was one of the most memorable moments of my life.
His reply is instant: And here I thought that was the orgasm I gave you.
I grimace and type: Really it was getting you to give me the orgasm before I cuffed you.
He calls me. Of course, he calls me. He has to be in control. I answer the line. “Nice of you to give me your number in case I needed you,” I answer, going on the attack.
“You proved resourceful in your needs, all of them.”
Of course, that’s a reference to my remark about getting him to give me an orgasm, and I actually can’t say I regret that orgasm. I decide that’s better unsaid and move onward. “Don’t you have a meeting?” I ask.
“It’s over. I walked out. I’m on my way to court.”
“The DA didn’t give you what you wanted?”
“No. He did not, but he will.”
In that moment, I envy his confidence, even his arrogance. He knows who he is, what he can do, and where he’s going. “I hope you win.”
“What happened to all the punches you were throwing me in the text message?”
“At present, you aren’t taunting me,” I reply.
“Is that what you think I was doing?”
“Isn’t it?” I challenge.
“Because I told you I want you more than my hand?”
I scowl. “Do you just say what comes to your mind or are you intentionally crass to me?”
“If I said what was on my mind, you’d hear a whole lot more than that. Is that what you want? It can be arranged.”
“Yes, please,” I say. “I prefer everything be on the table.”
“Do you now?”
“Yes. I do.”
He’s silent for several beats that feel loaded for reasons that I am certain I do not understand any more than I understand my father’s recent decisions or even Reid himself. “I’ll be there in time for the meeting.” He disconnects, and I have no idea what just happened, but I know one thing. Reid knows more about me than I know about him and I already know that I can’t do that without help. I tried before the auction. He’s shielded himself and well, but I’m here. I am up close and personal, and I want to know who he is and what he really wants because it’s not what it seems. He said to trust my gut and that’s what my gut says.