Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I pulled away from him. “That all women are the same?”
He shook his head. “No, my precious Shortbread. That once broken, a heart can never mend. Function—yes. But you cannot repair something that is already in pieces.”
I didn’t agree with him. Then again, my heart had never been broken. Although, currently, it felt like it treaded dangerously close to this territory.
“So, now you know.” He collected our glasses, standing. “Why I hated seeing you parade yourself in front of Senior. Why he touched you to make a point to me—that you were fair game, too. Why I’ll never have children.”
He left no room for negotiation. No room for thought. I studied him from my spot on the rug, realizing he’d given me exactly what I wanted—the truth—and that it didn’t get me any closer to defrosting his heart. If anything, the mission seemed more impossible than ever.
“I will never love you, Dallas Costa. For that, I am truly sorry. Because you are certainly worthy of love.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Zach Sun: Is it just me, or have we not seen Rom in weeks now?
Ollie vB: It’s not just you. He’s been busy with his sweetheart.
Zach Sun: Detroit?
Romeo Costa: @ZachSun, you are aware that this joke was not funny the first time around, let alone the fiftieth, right?
Ollie vB: There you are, sunshine. Where’d you disappear?
Romeo Costa: Life is hectic.
Ollie vB: Too hectic to join our annual pre-Christmas snowboarding vacation?
Romeo Costa: I’m afraid so.
Ollie vB: Lies. You’re not afraid of anything. Other than catching feels.
Zach Sun: @OllievB, can you hear the meows?
Ollie vB: Of @RomeoCosta, being pussy-whipped? Yup.
Zach Sun: @OllievB, remember when Rom had his balls?
Ollie vB: @ZachSun, yeah. They were beautiful. When he ran, they’d clank against one another. It sounded like wedding bells.
Romeo Costa: Speaking of weddings, when is yours, @ZachSun?
Zach Sun: Never.
Romeo Costa: I’m giving it three months.
Ollie vB: I’m going to be generous and give him six months.
Romeo Costa: 100K?
Ollie vB: Deal. Whoever’s closest wins.
Zach Sun: I hate you both.
Ollie vB: I hear wedding bells again.
Romeo Costa: False alarm. It’s just Zach’s balls shaking.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Romeo
A week after Shortbread had pranced around in little more than a Post-It note covering her privates, I wined and dined Tom Reynolds at Le Bleu. This meeting was long overdue. Last time, I’d canceled after Dallas channeled her inner Great Gatsby, throwing the mother of all house parties.
Today’s agenda included convincing Tom to reverse the DOD’s decision to grant Licht Holdings our forgone renewal. Cautious optimism settled into my shoulders. Licht Holdings sat amid a PR disaster. With far too many fires to extinguish to fulfill the monstrous contract.
Jared slammed the brakes, narrowly avoiding a Tesla that cut him off.
“Ooof.” Shortbread careened into my side, sloshing sparkling apple cider onto my Bruno Cucinellis.
I jerked the bottle from her grip, sending it into the trash. “We’re minutes from the restaurant. Is this necessary?”
“I’m pregaming.”
“You’re spilling.”
And that brought me to the only downside of Tom inviting his wife—Shortbread had to tag along, too. There was nothing wrong with my wife whatsoever. Stunning, entertaining, and sweet as sin, she provided a welcome distraction for Casey, who I doubted wanted to hear about drones, tanks, and semi-automatic weapons. There was only one issue with Dallas—I could hardly think of anything other than burying myself inside her whenever she entered my vicinity.
Shortbread pouted, yanked tissues from the tight corset of her gown, and dabbed my loafers, presenting an unimpeded view of her generous cleavage.
“Dallas.”
“Hmm?”
But what could I say? Put your tits away before I spring a rifle-sized hard-on that’ll make Tom wish he never asked to see my weapons?
I extended a handkerchief. “Clean yourself up.”
Instead of using it to wipe the sticky cider off her hands, Dallas brought the square to her nose, inhaling my cologne. “You know, just because I agreed to come tonight, doesn’t mean I approve of your job.”
I swiped the fabric from her, collected her heeled foot, and dabbed the alcohol off her myself, ignoring her words.
“I mean, I don’t trust humans to take care of the planet, and all they need is literally not to suck. Why would I trust them with heavy artillery?”
“You’re not supposed to trust anyone with heavy artillery. That’s its entire purpose. The quickest war to end is the one that never started.”
“So profound.” She batted her lashes. “The Nobel Peace Prize is on the way. Make sure your suit is ironed.”
It infuriated me to no end that this was the woman I’d entrusted my truth to. I knew she’d keep my secrets safe. That offered me absolutely zero comfort, seeing as I wanted to pinpoint, dissect, and devour each flaw of hers. Anything to make her less appealing to me.
She had plenty of faults, too. I remembered how easily I’d spotted them when she’d first moved in. But everything I’d detested about her—her rolling, loud laughter, her messiness, her uncanny ability to befriend anything and anyone, potted plants included—no longer irked me.