Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
My little Petal gulps before she turns around and steps towards her building with unsteady shaky legs. She remains at the front, waiting for me without a word.
Good girl.
I stride to Lucio and Marco, placing both hands in my pockets. “To what do I owe this visit?”
“We have a meeting.” Lucio motions at the car. “Get inside.”
“I have a boarding school to visit,” I say. “About that Costa heir you love so much.”
“He’s not an heir,” Lucio snarls in my face.
Like an obedient dog, Marco closes in on me, reaching for his gun under his jacket. Fucking asshole would love to put a bullet in my head.
“Not an heir,” I say in a bored voice. “Still, I have to go to that boarding school.”
My boarding school.
It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the Costa heir and I went to the same school.
If Giovani is screwing with me, he’ll have his life as collateral.
“Then you’ll attend the meeting and then go to that boarding school.” Lucio glares. “Any objections?”
Marco smirks, taunting me to go against his boss’s order.
I open the car door and slide inside, occupying Lucio’s usual seat.
The sooner we’re done, the faster I can go back to Petal who’s still standing in front of the building, watching with wild eyes.
No one gets to scare her under my watch.
No. Fucking. One.
Lucio included.
12
Georgina
Something about that man has awakened a fear inside me, and it's refusing to stop clenching my heart with its steely fingers. I wait in the shadow of my doorway after he gets in the car, nervously fidgeting.
A moment passes, but Jasper doesn’t come back. Instead, the car rolls in the streets and away. A hot, fiery sensation bubbles in my veins.
Enough.
I won’t be blindsided, worrying, and thinking about what the hell is happening whenever I’m with him.
My nails dig into the flesh of my palms as I stride inside.
A cool shiver runs down my spine and I force myself to unlock the door of my building and head inside. My eyebrows knit together in worry as I take the stairs, playing with the hem of my jacket. There was something really off about the guy. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Or maybe it’s his spider tattoo.
In the apartment, I do my well-practiced routine – feed the cats, change their water, and clean the litter box. After I'm done, I pour myself a glass of cheap rosé and collapse on the couch with a heavy sigh. I turn on the TV, hoping it will disturb the eerie silence. But it's not totally silent... No, there's a faint thump of something, like wood against plastic.
I get up and follow the sound into my bedroom. My eyes widen when I see one of the windows is open, the corner of it hitting the windowpane repeatedly. I never leave my windows open when I leave for work. This isn't the best area to live in, and besides, I don't want the cats getting out while I'm gone. If I had left it open, I'd remember it – and I would have put the safety lock on. But there's nothing there now. The safety chain hangs uselessly by the window.
With a rush of fear spreading through my body, I close the window and lock it shut.
The whisper of the wind dies down, the thumping sound gone, but I still feel like I hear something. Perhaps it's just my own demons, lurking in the shadows of my mind and threatening to come back out the first chance I give them. But the warning is there – unspoken, but so very loud and clear in my mind.
Be careful.
Someone's watching you.
I spend the night tossing and turning, and wake up to a bleak, foggy and rainy day outside.
My last thought before I fell asleep was of Jasper.
My first thought when I wake up is of Jasper.
I'm so unbelievably fucked.
It's my day off, and I thought I'd be grateful for the reprieve, but I'm restless and bored the entire day. I flip through channels on the TV, go for a jog, play with the cats and start reading a few books, but I can't settle on anything. Around midday, I decide I can't possibly wait a second longer. I call Jasper's number, a smile on my lips as I wait for him to pick up.
He doesn't.
I end the call before his answering machine kicks in, my cheeks aflame with insecurity. Why didn't he pick up?
Forcing myself to think of anything else, I busy myself by cleaning the apartment until it shines. I don't want to, but I call Jasper again. This time, I listen to his answering machine, his lazy voice telling me to leave a message or fuck off. I pick the latter.
Finally, the evening rolls around and I'm sitting on my sofa in my cat-print PJs and soft fuzzy socks when the phone rings.