Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
He chuckled. “I’m not going to touch the man, Bell. I just want to know the extent of your relationship.”
I shook my head, his easy tone only half-extinguishing the alarm bells ringing through my head. “We’re not in a relationship. It’s just…” I didn’t know how to describe my sexual fling with Ian, not in words that didn’t make me sound like a carefree slut. I raised my chin and forced my voice to remain strong. “It’s just a physical thing.”
“I can’t imagine any man being happy with a strictly physical relationship with you.”
“Yet, that’s what you’re proposing. Right?” I released my hold on the railing, the kiss’ effect fading, our focus on Ian giving me the distraction my sanity needed.
He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he pulled at the end of a bright blue shirt sleeve, adjusting it under his suit jacket. “I have to be careful who I allow close to me. It doesn’t make sense for me to get involved with a woman in a relationship. It’s too risky for me.”
He was giving me an out. If I wanted Dario Capece to walk away from me, all I had to do was say the words and tell him that Ian and I were dating. It wasn’t that far from the truth. I could take Ian up on his dinner invite. But it wasn’t what I wanted. Not with Ian…
“We’re not dating.” I don’t know why I said it, but I did. I don’t know why I stepped closer, but I did. Maybe it was because my lips were still tingling from his kiss and the chemistry between us was crackling like a live wire.
I wondered how much he knew about me. He’d had me followed. Knew about Ian. Found my phone number. Probably done a complete background check and history. Did he know about my poor upbringing? Dad’s drinking? The night I was raped? Had the last forty-eight hours been a dissection of my life?
The last forty-eight hours… I stopped as something mentally clicked into place. “That guy at work … the one who offered me money to sleep with him. Did he work for you?”
To his credit, he didn’t deny it. “He did. In this town, with your looks...” He lifted one shoulder. “A lot of the girls earn a secondary income. I needed to know if you were one of them.”
“I didn’t apply to be your girlfriend.” I spit out the words, my irritation turning to anger. “How fucking egotistic are you? You think that once you check off all of my boxes, that I’ll just jump into your arms, grateful to be a side piece of ass?” I closed the distance and shoved him as hard as I could with the palm of my hand, his chest like a stone column. “Next time, just ask a girl and find out for yourself.”
He caught my hand. “I’m not proud of the methods I’ve used, but I’m not some bartender on the Strip. I can’t afford strangers in my life, and I expected...” He swallowed and held the thought for a beat. “I expected to be disappointed, to find an excuse to leave you alone.” He released my hand. “I didn’t.”
I dropped my hand from his chest and watched as he stepped away, his gaze holding mine.
“I know it’s a lot to think about.” He slid his hands into his pockets.
I swallowed. “I don’t even know what it is.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I’m trying to figure that out myself. With other women, it’s been simple. With you…” He broke eye contact, turning slightly toward the exit, then glanced back. “I have a feeling it won’t be. Let’s start with something simple. I’d like to see you again. Dinner, the next night you have off.”
The closest thing I’ve ever had to a date was with Elliot, a dinner at TGI Fridays on prom night. We split a cheese fries appetizer and I spilled a drop of honey mustard on the skirt of my dress. It had been the most basic of events, one I’d never had the urge to repeat.
He took another step toward the door and nodded at me. “Goodnight, Bell.”
I turned back to the club floor, unable to watch him leave and unsure of what to say. I waited for half of a hip-hop song, then glanced back.
He was gone, and somehow, void of any sense, I wanted him back.
* * *
I felt the poke of a long fingernail in my side and turned my head, meeting Meredith’s quizzical look.
“What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.” I rested my head against the glass, comforted by the cool surface of Lydia’s window.
I’d bet the title of this club that you want me to fuck you. Yeah. He’d been right about that.
I don’t fuck strange women that I know nothing about. I’m not proud of the methods I’ve used, but I’m not some bartender on the Strip. I can’t afford strangers in my life. I understood that he lived a different life than the rest of Vegas. I understood that he had to be careful who he went to bed with. But did that excuse his invasion into my life? It didn’t, and it did. I could become offended and riled up about it, or I could accept the situation and look the other way.