Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Once inside though, I come to a screeching halt and stare around.
The place is—weirdly empty.
Well, not empty. No, there’s furniture, and it’s all marked with a red ribbon. It’s the stuff we agreed on, roughly placed in the positions that we discussed. I move from room to room, staring in at the normal-looking amount of furniture, and I start to feel a little dizzy by the time I find the note sitting on the kitchen island.
I thought you’d like it if I took care of all this extra stuff. I hope you don’t mind. I like how the place turned out—we’re better together. Gian.
I read the note a few more times before getting one of those dizzy butterfly-feelings in my stomach.
Better together? What kind of sappy crap is that?
But I really, really like it, and I love the way the house looks now.
Gone is the nightmare jungle of couches. In its place is a simple, understated home. Still a little barren—I need to invest in some serious pillows and throw blankets stat—but ours.
I bring in the groceries, get them unpacked, and marvel at how the place is starting to come together.
Despite everything.
I pick up my phone without thinking. I have to tell someone and I’ve only ever called one person when something worth talking about happens. I call Sophia, and it isn’t until I get sent to voicemail that I remember we aren’t talking anymore.
I shove my phone away and slump forward, elbows leaning on the counter.
For a second there, I was happy.
I hear Gian’s footsteps inside and consider cleaning up my mess. I’m sitting out back on some black patio furniture, not feeling remotely my best, but I can’t bring myself to put on airs. The sliding door opens and he steps outside.
His gaze slips from my face to the table and a frown tugs down his mouth.
“Is that an entire wheel of cheese?” he asks, eyebrows raising.
“What? No, it’s not an entire wheel.”
“Wow, that’s an absurd amount of smoked meats. Where did you get it all?”
I glare at him. “I went shopping. Would you stop it?”
“You made a cheese plate for one. It’s almost kind of sad.”
“Don’t be an asshole. I’m not in the mood.”
“It’s a good cheese plate though. Looks really nice. Or what’s left of it.”
I roll my eyes and slap his hand away when he tries to take a piece. “If you can’t appreciate my artistry then you don’t get to eat.”
“I appreciate your artistry, I just didn’t know you could do it in such bulk.”
“I swear, if you use the word bulk while looking at me like that one more time, I am going to punch you directly in the throat. Like, skip jaw, skip balls, just straight to a killing blow.”
“Fair enough. Just to be clear, I don’t care how much cheese you consume. You’re just a small girl and I’m a little impressed.”
“Sure you are.” I cross my arms and give him a stink-eye. “What are you dressed up for, anyway?”
Though it feels like dragging a rusty knife down my throat admitting this, the man does look fantastic in a dark suit and a white shirt. No tie, top button undone, showing off a little chest and a hint of tattoos. Pure businessman sex.
“Now that I’m here, I need to start earning. I was at the house discussing what my next move within the organization’s going to be.”
“And what’s that?”
“We don’t know. I’ve been running a gambling operation for a while, but we don’t need a second one.”
I hesitate. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own misery that I haven’t really thought about how he must be handling this. Which is weird, since I don’t actually care, but—
“That must be hard. Want cheese?”
“No, thank you.” He sits in the chair next to mine and takes off his jacket, laying it down in his lap. “But yes, it’s frustrating. It doesn’t help that there’s a war going on with the Russians and the Irish. Renzo’s not exactly looking to expand right now.”
“Do I need to be worried about that?”
He shrugs and tilts is head. “Do you care if I get murdered?”
I tap a finger against my lips thoughtfully. “Well—”
“Don’t answer that question, actually.” He sighs and stretches his neck. “I’ll figure it out.” When he looks at me again, his gaze sharpens. “What do you think of the house?”
“I love it,” I say automatically. It’s true, but I planned on being a little more guarded with him. I’m pleased when his face lights up at my compliment.
“That makes me happy. I’m glad you do.”
“And your note—” Well, I’ve come this far, I might as well say it. “You’re right. We did a good job together.”
“We make a good team.” He’s smiling slightly, but he’s not joking. I can tell by the way he looks at me, leaning closer, his body angled directly at me.