Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
I like it when she spews words without realizing she says them aloud. It’s one of my favorite things about her.
And I hate people and the things they do.
But her? Well, she’s an interesting little one, isn’t she?
She sways closer to me, and I’m not sure she even registers that she does it. My hand clasps around her wrist, and her breathing becomes heavier. I taste her finger one last time before I pull it free from my lips. She looks at it, a little dazed. Like she can’t believe I just did that.
“I need a drink,” she says huskily, then turns for the door. I follow her inside—God only knows why—and straight to the bar. She orders a margarita, which I guess is her usual now, and I order bourbon.
“If you slide that finger up that dress right now…”
“Fuck off,” she says quietly through gritted teeth, then covers her mouth.
I lean in close to her ear and whisper, “Do you want me to fuck you or literally fuck off.” She glances over her shoulder at me. “Have you noticed that you have more of a backbone since I've been around?” I ask.
“How would you know? You don’t know me,” she replies.
I slide her hair off her shoulder. Today, it smells like vanilla.
“I do, though. I know everything there is to know about you.”
“How?”
“It’s my job to know about people. And when I first saw you…well, let’s just say I spent the next twenty-four hours observing you. I know you don’t like looking people in the eye except me. You used to stay home as much as humanly possible because you never wanted to be seen. I know that you never, not once…” I pause as my hand settles on her lower back, gliding down and teasing the top of her ass, “wore something like this, yet here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“Why do you wear this now?” I ask. “Tell me.”
She turns back to the bartender, who hands her drink over, and she swallows it all in one hit before fully facing me. I move in and encase her in my arms, and those intriguing eyes hold my gaze.
“Because I know if someone touched me without my permission while I’m wearing this, you’d end them.” She winks, ducks out of my arms, and goes straight to where Marco and her boss sit.
What a sassy little bitch.
But she isn’t lying.
I would end anyone stupid enough to touch her.
Nineteen
Mayve
I wasn’t lying when I said what I said, I have this feeling he would absolutely kill someone over me. And I’m not sure how exactly that makes me feel.
I’ve changed in the short amount of time since he’s come into my life. Not everything has changed, as I still prefer to stay at home, but now I go out more, not horrified at leaving my safe place anymore. I go to work functions and dress accordingly. I’m not sure my old clothes would fit in well with my current position. I must make an impression, and how I dressed before did anything but that.
Before, I dressed to hide.
Now, I dress to impress.
“You two seem happy. He can’t keep his eyes off you,” Marco comments as he slides into the booth right next to me, taking up all the space and making me feel small.
“Are you happy?” Kenzo asks, putting me on the spot.
Jeff and Marco stare at me, waiting for my response.
“Yes,” I answer.
His hand rests on my thigh and squeezes.
“Been busy with work, Kenzo?” Marco asks.
“Yes, people are falling at my feet right now.” I get what he’s saying, and I have a feeling Marco does too, because all he does is nod and pick up his drink.
We continue making small talk, and Kenzo doesn’t speak for the rest of the night, but I get the feeling he listens to everything we say intently. He seems to draw in every word, every facial expression, every single movement, and keeps them safe in his mind for use at a later time.
“I think I need to retire for the night,” Jeff says. “I’ll take care of the bill. Have a good night. And, Mayve… I’ll see you on Monday.” He smiles before sliding out of the booth and weaving his way to the exit, leaving us in the booth with Marco.
“I’ve heard rumors,” Marco says to Kenzo. “Pops—”
“You know what they say about rumors.” Kenzo cuts him off. “Rumors are like mushrooms. They grow best in the dark.” Marco nods like he knows what Kenzo is talking about while I sit there confused.
Pops? Who the hell is that?
“Well, I’m off. Have a good night, you two,” Marco says, leaving. And then it’s just me and my “husband.”
“Who is Pops?” I ask.
Kenzo pulls his hand from my leg and stands. “It’s time to take you home.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and I don’t know what’s happening.