Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 74276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“He doesn’t know what floor we’re on,” he said. “There are thirty-five floors in this hotel. He’ll have a hell of a time figuring out which one we’re on.”
“He can wait and follow us up,” I said. “Watch for where the elevator stops.”
“It doesn’t say that in the lobby,” he pointed out. “Rittenhouse is very discreet.”
“Still,” I said. “He could wait for us to leave one night and bam. Kill us both out on the sidewalk.”
“Too public. Bennigan’s stupid, but not that stupid. He likes his freedom.”
I threw my hands up. “Why the hell are you so insistent on staying here?”
“Because Dante knows we’re here,” he said. “And I don’t want to lose contact with him.”
I lingered by the door and tried to push my anger away. I couldn’t think straight when I was angry, and I needed to be able to reason this through.
“You really think that matters?” I asked. “Even though Bennigan’s the one that’s, you know, actually trying to kill us?”
Dante waved a hand. “Bennigan’s just a symptom,” he said.
“You’ll have to explain yourself,” I said.
“Dante’s the real problem here,” he said. “Dante and the mafia. They’re the ones that want you dead. I could kill Bennigan, but they’ll just send someone else, and someone else, and so on until either everyone in the city’s dead, or we’re arrested, or something. They’re the ones that can put a stop to this. Bennigan’s just the symptom of the underlying disease. Cure the disease, the symptoms stop.”
“Fine,” I said, rubbing my temples. “We could just tell Dante where we moved to.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But why bother? He knows we’re here.”
“You said we were safe in my apartment. You ended up getting beat up. Now I’m supposed to believe we’re safe here?”
“I said we were safe-ish in your apartment. I wanted to come to a hotel right away, if you remember.”
“You’re impossible,” I said, throwing my hands up. “Seriously, I think you’re doing this just to fuck with me. That kiss back there? That was just to mess with me.”
He tilted his head. “No,” he said. “That was because I wanted to kiss you.”
I stared at him. “But… Jesus. I thought it was to cover ourselves so those mafia guys didn’t spot us.”
“That’s what the newspaper was for.” He tilted his head and patted the couch cushion next to him. “There’s a lot I want to do with you that doesn’t have anything to do with our little predicament. If you want to find out, come sit down.”
“You’re disgusting,” I said and walked to the bedroom door. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Some guy’s trying to kill us and you’re just thinking about sex.”
“Can’t help myself when you’re around. I mean, look at you.”
I glared at him but felt a strange sense of pride flush through me.
“I’m going in here,” I said, gesturing back at the bedroom. “You stay out here and leave me alone.”
“Whatever you want.” He grabbed the remote. “Enjoy yourself in there. I’ll be listening.”
“Listening? For what?”
“For heavy breathing. I’m betting you’re going in there to relieve a little tension. If you want the real thing, feel free to call out my name. I’ll come running.”
“You’re insane.” I walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me.
But for a second, I had an insane thought.
What if he’s right?
What if I really do need to relieve some stress? The thought of him touching my body again sent shivers of delight down my spine.
He was truly an insane person. But his lips tasted like honey and his hand felt like heaven when he gripped my ass. I wanted more and it took all my strength to pull away.
That fucking bastard. He knew what he was doing.
I wanted to hate him but it was starting to feel good, and that scared me the most.
11
Tanner
Elise spent the rest of the day hiding in the bedroom. It was annoying, and I wished she’d come out to play, but fuck it, whatever.
She can pretend like she doesn’t want me to make her sweat and writhe and say my name.
But I know better.
I cycled through TV shows all afternoon. I called down for room service and ate alone at the table. I watched The Big Bang Theory and hated myself every time it made me laugh.
Awful show. Still loved it.
Evening came and went. I knocked on the bedroom door.
“You want dinner?” I called out.
No response.
“Come on, you need to answer,” I said. “Or I’m going to kick the door down.”
“Go away.” Her voice sounded muffled.
“I’m getting you something to eat,” I said. “I know you’re hungry.”
No response.
I ordered two chicken dinners and a bottle of champagne. The food came fast and I tipped the room service kid more than I needed to. He wore a black jacket and had acne scars on his nose.