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)
Romeo Costa: I’m done with my meetings. Where are you?
Romeo Costa: Very typical of you to give me the silent treatment the only time I do not wish for you to shut up.
Romeo Costa: Answer your phone.
Romeo Costa: 200K? Shopping? Have you no concept of what money means?
Romeo Costa: $700,000 IS A WHOLE FUCKING HOUSE.
Oh, boy. He’d used profanity. He never used profanity. Somebody wasn’t looking at the glass half-full. That card had a 1.5% cash back reward on it. I’d earned him $10,500—and Daddy once complained that I’d flunked algebra.
The elevator pinged open. I stumbled into the hall on wobbly legs. Now that it was time to face the music, I was reminded of how tone-deaf it was to spend enough money to buy an impressive mansion in most states, just to spite my rude husband.
The bellboy wheeled my shopping bags behind me, unaware of the storm brewing. It took four tries to slide my keycard into its slot. As expected, when I flung the door open, Romeo sat in the common area, legs folded at the ankles over a table, chewing gum and enjoying whisky with his suit half undone. His glacial expression didn’t change at the sight of me breezing in with half the contents of a Chanel store behind me.
Resting his Macallan on a recent Bloomberg issue, he fished change from his front pocket and stood, stuffing a fistful of bills into the bellboy’s hand. With a parting thanks, the kid went his merry way, shutting the door with a deadly click. It was just me and Romeo now. Standing in front of one another like two enemies before a duel.
Romeo’s languid body language jacked up my vigilance. He cracked one of his rare yet vicious smiles. “Have a good day, sweetheart?”
Would I ever look him in the eye without feeling like I sat on a roller coaster, just about to tip over the edge?
“Fine.” I scuttered to the mini bar, collecting an Evian. “Yours?”
“Good. Been anywhere interesting?”
I shrugged, my back to him. Weren’t my shopping bags a telltale sign? After draining half, I set the water beside Romeo’s whisky when his palm curled around my throat. He applied gentle pressure, sloping my face up so our gazes clashed.
His stony grays penetrated my skull. “I’ll ask again, and this time you’ll give me a full, satisfying answer. Where have you been, Dallas Costa?”
“Shopping. Where else?”
“Somewhere discreet, where you can spread those nice legs for someone else.” His lips hovered a breath away from mine. “Someone like Madison.”
Unease slithered down my spine. “Madison?” Romeo’s jaw locked. He tore himself from me, stalking to the bedroom. I hated that I trailed him. That my curiosity got the best of me. “What are you talking about?”
“I do hope, for his sake, you fake orgasms better than you do innocence. Don’t pretend not to know Madison is occupying the suite two doors down.” He faced me. For the first time, a distant cousin of angst swept past his eyes. He was still the same aloof Romeo. But something else lurked beneath the surface, too. A glimpse of boyishness. Uncertainty you’d find on a child’s face when dropped off at a new school for the first time.
“I didn’t know Madison is in Paris.” It was the truth. “How do you know he’s here?”
He gave me a how do you think look.
I closed my eyes, digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. “You’re having him followed.”
Lord. What had happened between these two?
“Your talent at natural deduction is unparalleled. Are you sure you’d like to keep your major as English Lit when there’s so much more you can contribute to the world of mathematics?”
“I told you—I didn’t know he was here.”
“That would be convincing had you not told me less than twenty-four hours ago you two were conspiring against me. And flashed me his engagement ring.”
Oh, screw you.
I squeezed past him, scurrying to the bathroom. He followed me, his steps unhurried, his broad shoulders lax.
“Did he steal your ex-girlfriend or something?” I yanked a brush from the vanity and jerked it through my hair. “I know you’re not jealous because you give one dang about me, so it must be something else.”
“Madison lacks the ability to steal a grain of sand from my backyard, let alone an entire human.” His intense stare snared mine through the mirror’s reflection. “What is he doing here?”
No clue. But I already knew he wouldn’t accept that answer.
“My guess? Playing with your psyche.” I sighed, hating to throw Madison under the bus. But I didn’t want said bus to run over me a hundred times until it pancaked me to the street. Anyway, Madison was a douchebag. Coming here was provocative and in poor form. He’d placed both of us in danger. It was time I fended for myself—and only for myself.