Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, my little monster.”
Then he gave me what he called an “appropriate gift.” A custom-made gold bracelet with two crossed arrows that match my tattoo engraved on the top.
Best. Gift. Ever.
I’ve been wearing it nonstop since he clasped it around my wrist.
That said, he still wouldn’t accept the Aston Martin. I left it in the building’s garage anyway for when he needs something for non-work use, then got him a boring Range Rover. He frowned at that, too, but at least he’s driving it most of the time. That’s a win, I guess.
After that, I couldn’t stop myself. I started buying him rare whiskey, imported coffee beans, high-end watches, only accessible because of my last name, custom-tailored suits, and a personalized leather briefcase.
I also bought a lot of decor items for the apartment and stuffed his wardrobe full of clothes. He frowns at every single gift, muttering about my “irresponsible spending habits,” but honestly, this is the only way I know how to take care of him. So he can just deal with it.
It’s weird, but I can’t stop myself. I want to shower him with things he loves, and lately, I can’t stop taking pictures of him, and sometimes, I force him into selfies that he doesn’t seem to enjoy. However, he lets me do whatever I want.
On top of that, I’ve been bribing Jina to teach me how to cook his favorite foods—not that it’s going smoothly. Half the time, he ends up joining me in the kitchen, trying to help, which leads to us making a complete mess.
Or he ends up fucking me on the counter.
Still, at least we’re not ordering takeout every day or I’m not sneaking leftovers from the cook at the Heathens’ mansion.
But tonight? No cooking. We’re watching a hockey game, and I’m not in the mood to mess around with food.
I hum to myself as I stack the food containers the chef prepared in a bag.
My phone vibrates, and I grab it, assuming it’s him. He hasn’t texted since this morning, so it’s about time.
My mood sours when I find my PI’s name.
Nadine
Is there anything else you wish to know, Mr. Carson?
So this was her reply after she sent me the entire dossier on Kayden’s ex-lovers. Isabelle Monroe, Lena Konstatinou, Hadil Kalif, and Sophia Li.
A partner in a big firm, a socialist, a company executive, and a pianist.
I’ve got stabby thoughts about every single one of them.
Didn’t help that they’re all drop-dead gorgeous. He clearly has a type: leggy, beautiful, and probably annoyingly perfect.
Sure, I could’ve just asked him about his exes, but that would mean listening to him talk about them, and I’d rather choke on glass.
What really grates is that he spent some time with all of them. Four serious exes? One is too many.
Me
You can go on hiatus, Nadine. Thank you for everything.
Noted. I’m always here if you need me, Mr. Carson.
I’ve been contemplating letting her go for a while now. Partly because I’m starting to feel guilty for spying on him, and partly because I know I’ll start obsessing—more than I already am—and asking for more videos, more pictures of him with those women, and I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole.
I have enough self-awareness to realize I’ll spiral, and it’ll be a worse bloodbath than the one with Harper.
And Grandpa will be like, “I told you so.”
I categorically can’t stand the thought of him with someone else, like it truly provokes my monster side. These emotions I have for him are kind of terrifying because I don’t know how the fuck I’d act if he doesn’t stay exactly where I want him.
Completely mine.
But then I remember that, in reality, I’m the one with him now.
So those four can choke.
With that cheerful thought, I pocket my phone and go back to packing dinner.
“Oh, you’ve definitely lost it.” Killian strolls to the fridge, grabs a beer, and leans against the counter across from me, ankles crossed as he takes a sip.
My good mood starts to chip away, but I ignore him and continue adding chili flakes to the containers. Kayden likes his food spicy—definitely Jina’s influence.
“Heard you’re in love?”
I lift my head and narrow my eyes. “I’m not in love.”
“That’s not what Mom and Dad are saying.” He takes another sip, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “They keep asking about this girl who apparently has all your attention.”
“They’re exaggerating.”
“You wouldn’t look so happy preparing some couple’s meal if they were.” He pauses, smirking. “I’ve never heard you hum before.”
“You’ve never seen me do a lot of things. Your point doesn’t hold.”
“Hmm, true. You do run deeper than you show, big bro. But here’s the thing.” He moves to the other side of the island, planting his elbows on the surface. “I haven’t seen any girl around you since Cherry was out of the picture. I thought it might be that clingy fool from school, but she’s way too pliant for your tastes. You prefer fighters, no? So, tell me, who’s this mystery girl?”