Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
She asked, the rank smell of tequila wafting over to me, “Where were you tonight?”
“I felt like a walk.”
She wrinkled her nose. Walks were beneath her. “You shouldn’t do that. Or you should take some of the guys with you. Everyone was worried about you.”
No one was worried about me. “I was fine, sister dear.”
She rolled her eyes and reached for a glass on her table. “You’re placating me.”
“Of course, I am.”
“Stop doing that,” she warned in a low tone. Her blue eyes flashed in anger. “I’m not helpless, and I’m not stupid. You’ve been disappearing a lot since we got to this town. If you’re going for walks”—she pointed to my face—“at least wear a hat.”
I flipped up my sweatshirt’s hood and pulled it low. “Look, ominous and threatening. I know you’re scared of girls flinging themselves at me, but when I’m dressed like this, they tend to run away.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“And you’re wasted,” I shot back, but regretted it. My sister had reason to worry. “I’m fine, Felicia. Nothing’s going to happen to me.” I wasn’t going anywhere. That’s what she was concerned about. I lingered on the glass in her hand. I didn’t know if she was drinking more since I left for prison and more since I got out. All I knew was that it was steady and constant. She was a problem the family would have to face sooner or later, but not now. What happened to her wasn’t my problem, at least not anymore. The small fight I had in me was gone. I raked a hand over my face. “Go to bed, Felicia. I’ll fetch you in the afternoon for lunch.”
“Lunch?” Her eyebrows furrowed together, and she pulled her blanket tighter. “Aren’t you doing that interview tomorrow?”
“No. It’s been moved to another day. You can sleep in and go shopping even. I’ll be back at the hotel around two for our lunch together.”
“Where will you be before that?” She sounded relieved, eager even.
I added to my lie, “I’ll be at the gym, and then I’m meeting with Parson and Ethan. I’m sure Laura will be joining us as well.”
Felicia snorted. “Your lawyers. I don’t know why they sent two of them with us. One would’ve sufficed.”
“I’m sure the fact that Ethan has recently stopped leaving your room in the morning has nothing to do with your attitude?”
She froze, her gaze searching mine.
I lifted an eyebrow. “I might have been in prison for two years, but that’s made me more aware of my surroundings. I can recognize whose footsteps I’m hearing tiptoe past my bedroom door at six in the morning.”
She huffed out, rolling her eyes, “We stopped, okay? You don’t have to lecture me about it.”
I kept quiet. They had only recently stopped, and I was going to have a word with Parson in the morning. I had no doubt his associate would be heading back to their law firm within the next twenty-four hours, and I was hoping that I’d concoct a plan to send Felicia flying after him. I had other plans to remain in town—at least for a few more days, if not a few more weeks, if I could make that happen somehow.
No one knew Jordan lived here. No one would know. I saw the interest in her tonight. She wanted to get to know me. The feeling was mutual. I wanted to understand her more than I already did.
“Fine,” Felicia groaned. “I’ll stop seeing him altogether. Would that make you happy, brother mine?”
I still didn’t say a word.
She snapped out, “Whatever. Fine. Be mad at me. I don’t care. I’m going back to bed. I’m so glad you’re okay, you know? I worry about you. I’m your sister, and you’re not exactly not known. You’re goddamn famous. I wish you’d just accept that and stop this disappearing act you always do. I’m just concerned, is all. Is that a crime? For a sister to be scared someone might try to hurt her brother? Because some people want to kill you, Kian. They don’t love you or worship you like all those insipid females who write to you. There are quite a few threatening letters in your fan-mail pile. You just don’t want to accept that they’re there or that you’re not invincible, but you are. You’re weak. You can be hurt, too.”
She kept going, but I tuned her out. This was a nightly occurrence, and when she lost steam, she would begin crying. Then she would say she was hurting, too, that her life had been wrecked by the family and by me leaving her. She never got sympathy. Everyone paid attention to me. No one paid her attention.
And when she began faltering, I couldn’t stomach any more for the night.
I went to my room and shut the door, but I paused on my side and waited. She would either retire back to her room, sobbing, or she would raid the liquor cabinet in the main room.